Innocence
by fictional-loves
Summary: Something is threatening the Beacon Hills but no one knows what it is. When it's identity is discovered, will anyone be strong enough to take it down, or will they all die trying? *trying to stay as close to the show as possible, all main characters are included and two OCs* IsaacxOC, AllisonxScott, DerekxStiles
1. Contact

**Author's note: This is my first ever Teen Wolf fic. I'm trying to stick as close to how the show is set, so it will switch between characters quite often. I'm working my best to keep the main characters as close to their actual personalities as possible. If you leave a review and tell me what you think I would greatly appreciate it, even if it's an unhappy review.**

* * *

"I am _so_ sorry." Carrie muttered, clutching her books to her chest. The body she had slammed into was hard and unmoving and standing directly in her path now.

_God, I am such an idiot. Why couldn't I have been hit by a bus on the way to school? At least that would take me from this misery,_ she thought, her eyes on the ground.

"Hmph." A male voice grumbled.

Carrie raised her pale blue eyes to meet a pair of narrowed dark blue one's. Isaac Lahey. He was in her English class, wasn't he? He used to be more timid. Always wearing hoodies to cover his face, always walking with his shoulders drawn together, as if expecting a blow. He'd been nice too, hadn't he? On the one occasion that they'd spoken Carrie had gotten a good impression from him.

Lately that had changed. First there was the fact that the hoodie had been replaced by a flashy leather jacket. Then there was the added smirk, ever present on his face. And lastly was the blonde girl, Erica, constantly at his side.

"Sorry." Carrie muttered again when Isaac didn't move.

The hallway was crowded. Carrie could hear people all around her but it was almost as if she was hearing them through a tube. Nothing was distinct. Only the hum of voices but no actual words. And as her eyes met Isaacs again it was as if he was the only person in the room.

Carrie read a lot of books and, she had to admit, at least to herself, a lot of them were trashy paranormal romances where things like soul mates and true love existed. She'd read a series once where something similar to this happened when the two main characters met.

It wasn't a romantic feeling, like the world was falling away and they were the only two left, clinging to each other with love, though. No, this was something different. The hair on her arms started to raise and sweat broke out on the back of her neck and her pulse quickened. This was terrifying.

Something was very, very wrong.

And then Isaac blinked and the whole world fell back into place, as if nothing had happened. Maybe nothing _had_ happened, Carrie considered. _Maybe my imagination just- ran away with itself again._

"Don't be." Isaac told her, breaking what felt like hours of silence but couldn't have been more than a few seconds. "'s my fault."

He flashed that grin of his and if something looked a little… canine-like, or elongated, Carrie didn't notice. At least, that's what she told herself as Isaac walked away, Erica moving to his side as if she'd been standing there and listening to the entire short conversation.

When they finally rounded the corner Carrie fell into the set of lockers beside her and slipped to the ground, feeling as though she had just ran ten miles with a murderous dog at her heels.

"Are you okay?"

Carrie jumped, her books falling onto the floor. "Crap." She muttered, scrambling to grab them.

Allison bent down and helped, her eyebrows drawn together in concern. "Was he bothering you just a minute ago?" She asked, handing a large chemistry text book to Carrie.

Carrie pushed a strand of golden hair behind her ear, a nervous gesture that she had since she was younger. "N-no, not really." She said quietly. "I just walked into him. It happens. I'm such a space case."

Allison stood up and straightened her skirt, a half smile on her face. "As long as you're sure."

Carrie nodded. "I am. And thank you."

Allison gave one short nod and then turned around to join her friend Lydia.

Carrie frowned at their retreating backs and headed towards her next class, trying to figure out why she had an alarming feeling of danger.

* * *

_For fuck sakes, _Derek thought, resisting the urge to punch a hole in the wall- or in Erica.

"Your bite can't turn people, Erica." Derek shouted before remembering his pact to stay as calm as possible. He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to regain composure.

Erica huffed out a large breath, her lips forming a pout. "Maybe I'm sick of being the only female." She said, her voice higher pitched than usual, sounding more like a whine than a sentence. "Look around, Derek! I'm surrounded by men!" She yelled, pointing at Boyd and Isaac in turn and lastly poking Derek in the chest. "Sure, there are perks." She admitted, her lips spreading into a wicked grin for a second. Derek resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "But none of you understand what it's like for me. What it's like to change. It's not the same for me."

Something softened inside Derek, just for a second. He knew that Erica was struggling. Both Isaac and Boyd had mastered staying grounded during the full moon, and Scott had had it down for a while now. Erica still couldn't control herself on a full moon. It was like watching a caged animal, she screamed and bit and clawed at everything in sight.

"I get that." Derek said through clenched teeth. "But I've explained it a hundred times, _you can't change anyone_. I don't mean you're not allowed, I mean you physically can't. All you did was bite that girl. Who knows what'll happen to her, but I can promise you that becoming a werewolf is definitely off the list."

Erica's brown eyes widened and she pulled her shoulders back, making her breasts stick out. "Then maybe," she said, running a hand over Derek's hard chest. "_You_ should change someone for me."

Derek swatted her hand away. Erica was fun to play with when he was bored but she had no hold over him. He cared for her, as he did for every member of his pack, but sometimes he found her… expendable. No, that wasn't right. He only found her expendable when she was pissing him off, which, come to think of it, was almost all of the time.

"I'm not changing anyone for you, Erica." Derek said, turning his back on her. "Now let's get down to what we're actually supposed to be doing."

"That's it?" Isaac shouted, incredulous. "She bites some random woman-,"

"She was _homeless_," Erica muttered. "It's not like anyone would have cared."

"And she doesn't get punished at all?" Isaac continued as if Erica had never spoken.

"Don't act like this has anything to do with me." She told him. "You're only upset that you're being kept on such a short leash."

Derek sighed. This was happening more and more as every day passed. Erica and Isaac had developed a close relationships. Sadly, it resembled that of brothers and sisters. They were constantly bickering or telling on each other. It was like dealing with children and that was one thing Derek did not deal with ever. He hated kids.

"Boyd." He muttered, waving a hand on the bickering couple's direction.

Isaac fell, his head hitting the ground with a loud thump. Boyd rubbed at his knuckles before offering Isaac a hand up.

"Dick." Isaac muttered, rubbing at his jaw. There was a trickle of blood dripping out the side of his mouth. His tongue flicked out and licked it up as quickly as the small gash inside his mouth healed.

"Are you calling him a dick because his is so much bigger than yours?" Erica commented.

"You would know, wouldn't you?" Isaac shot back.

"Both of you, _shut the fuck up_." Derek commanded.

They both fell silent immediately. Derek grinned. Some parts of being the Alpha sucked, like having to run a pack and deal with these kids, but other parts were totally worth the hardship.

"Now, let's resume training."

* * *

"I'm telling you, there's something off about Derek's little pack of misfits." Allison propped herself up on her elbow and frowned at Scott.

"I don't know if you remember this or not, but technically I'm apart of that little pack of misfits now." Scott pointed out, but he was smiling.

Allison shoved him. "I didn't mean you, obviously." She told him, her lips tilted upwards. "And Boyd's okay, I guess."

Scott raised his eyebrows. "Are you forgetting that time he rammed into me like a bulldozer in the middle of the lacrosse field?"

"Oh yeah…" Allison's eyes went out of focus for a second. "But putting that aside, he doesn't give off an… I don't know, _evil _vibe like Isaac and Erica."

"You think they're evil." Scott deadpanned.

Allison's expression turned wary. She picked at a lose string on her comforter. "I don't know." She admitted. "They just don't feel right."

"Will it make you feel better if I promise to keep an eye on them?" Scott asked, his brown eyes softening.

"You'd do that?"

Scott leaned forwards and pressed his lips again Allison's. "I'd do anything for you."

Scott could feel Allison's smile rather then see it. He brushed the hair off her face and slid his hand around to the back of her neck, holding her against him.

"I love you." He muttered against her lips.

"I know." Allison said, laughter in her voice.

"That's it?" Scott pulled back. "I know?"

Allison's grin turned mischievous. "Mhmm."

Scott grabbed her around the waist and pulled her on top of him. He pushed the hair off her neck and pressed his lips against it before widening his mouth, just a bit.

"You sure you don't want to change that answer?"

"I'm sure." Allison said, but her voice wavered.

Scott bit down on the pale, soft skin of Allison's neck. Just a tiny little love bite. She moaned in response, the way she always did.

"Okay, I love you too." She whispered, tangling a hand in his hair to keep him from moving his lips from her neck.


	2. Attendance

"Are you just getting home?" Carrie demanded, her eyes wide.

Her mother stumbled into the house, her makeup a mess, her hair scraggly and tangled, her clothes wrinkled and hanging off her thin frame.

"Hmm? Oh, no. I- I was just checking the mail." Her mother lied.

Carrie gave her mother a hard look before resigning. "Just go to bed." She muttered, shouldering past the older woman.

"Good idea." Her mother agreed.

She was supposed to be getting better. She was supposed to stop doing drugs. She was _supposed_ to do a lot of things, and Carrie always gave her the benefit of the doubt. She always believed her mother when she said things would be different. And they never were.

They only got worse.

She used to wonder why she wasn't enough motivation to make her mother stop. It used to eat her alive. Now she just stopped thinking of her mother as an adult, but as a child who had no sense of right or wrong anymore, who needed taking care of. So that's what Carrie did. She took care of her mom. Who cares if maybe Carrie needed someone to take care of _her_.

Outside it was still dark, even though it was nearing 8 in the morning. The parking lot was large and nearly empty. Most of the people living in her building couldn't afford a car of their own, most opting to walk or ride the bus wherever they needed to go.

At the end of the parking lot was a small trail that led through the woods and to Beacon Hills High School. Carrie took that route every morning, unless it was raining. The woods got too muddy to walk through during bad weather.

Cutting through the woods had been such a daily routine that Carrie rarely get frightened going through them. She always kept on her path and the only thing she'd ever come across while walking through it was the occasional bunny or squirrel. Nothing to be afraid of.

So why did she suddenly feel unsettled?

A twig snapped somewhere near by and Carrie jumped, her eyes flitting around. Nothing. Not even a tiny animal.

She resisted the urge to be the clichéd girl in a horror movie and yell out, "Who is there?" and continued walking. Five more minutes and she'd be on the street leading to her school. Five minutes. That's not so bad, she told herself.

Every little sound seemed to set her off, though. A bird flying over head, the crunching of dead leaves underfoot. It was as if the forest was something dangerous today, as if something was lurking behind a tree somewhere in the distance, watching, waiting.

Oh, get a grip, Carrie, she thought. You're not afraid of walking through the woods.

"Hey!" Someone shouted.

Carrie whirled around, a scream rising in her throat, waiting to be unleashed.

"You can't be walking through this forest alone." It was a police officer. One she recognized. Stilinski, or something. He had a flashlight in one hand and the other on the gun attached to his waist by a holster.

"I'm sorry?" Carrie said, frowning. "I walk through these woods to get to school."

Officer Stilinski gave her a sad smile. "I'm sorry, kid, but due to recent events it's not exactly safe for a young woman such as yourself to go walking through here alone."

"What recent events?" Carrie couldn't help but ask.

Officer Stilinski hesitated. "Nothing I can talk about right now." He said vaguely.

"Okay…" Carrie said slowly. "I'll take the long way tomorrow, then."

"That's a girl." Officer Stilinski nodded.

Carrie walked off, something hard and solid in her stomach. Fear. That's what it was. She was afraid. Not of Officer Stilinski, but of what he said. Something dangerous had happened recently in these woods. Something that would make it unsafe for anyone to walk through them alone.

* * *

"He was one of you." Stiles said, playing with the cap of his Pepsi. "All the signs are there. My dad says he was cut right in half."

"He wasn't anyone we know. Must have been another Omega that wondered into town." Scott commented. He frowned at Allison. "Did your dad go hunting last night?"

She shook her head, her brown hair falling around her shoulders. "It wasn't them. They stayed home last night, I'm positive."

Scott stared off into the distance. "I'm going to have to talk with Derek after school."

"Why not just try Wolverine over there?" Stiles pointed to where Isaac and Erica were walking. From where he was sitting Scott could plainly see that Isaac's nails had turned into claws as he scratched the back of his neck.

"Someone's going to notice that one day." Allison put out, looking concerned.

"Not if I rip them off one by one." Scott murmured under his breath.

"Is it your time of the month?" Stiles asked, raising an amused eyebrow.

"Shut up." Scott told him, getting out of his seat.

* * *

"Dance committee starts at three. Are you sure you're up for it?" Mrs. Worthers asked, giving Carrie a concerned look.

"Of course. I don't mind at all." Carrie told her.

Usually Marie Conners took care of setting up the school for dances and selling tickets, but this semester she joined the girls basketball team and she wasn't available to handle everything. Carrie was used to having teachers fall back on her when anything important needed to be done. She was reliable and she was the kind of person who had trouble saying no to people.

"Thank you so much, Carrie."

"It's no problem." Carrie reassured her, backing out of the classroom doorway- and right into someone else.

"You know, that's twice in two days." Isaac commented, grinning down at her.

"I'm sorry." Carrie said automatically.

Isaac put a hand on her wrist. It wasn't a gentle hold and his fingers were soft but strong, yet Carrie felt something flash through her. She ripped her arm from his grasp and took a step back.

Isaac only smiled, as if this was the response he had been looking for. "See you around."

"That was completely deliberate." Erica commented, raising her dark blonde eyebrows.

Isaac shrugged, shouldering past a large boy who he recognized from the lacrosse team. "So?"

"So… what's the point?" Erica sneered. "Even if you weren't a werewolf that wouldn't happen. Carrie has been in a few of my classes and I can tell you one thing for sure, you are not that girls type."

"I don't think it really matters whether I'm her type or no." Isaac pointed out. "I'm just having a bit of fun. I think I scare her."

Erica rolled her brown eyes. "Then have fun with someone on our radar. Not someone like Carrie Pern. I think I was more popular than her back when I was having seizures in class and looked like something your grandmother would try to set you up for a playdate with."

"Isaac." The voice was low and the words were spoken so quietly that no one else would have heard them, except maybe Erica. Isaac turned. He would know that voice anywhere and he knew that even if he didn't want to, he would always answer it.

"Derek's here." Isaac said under his breath.

"Where?" Erica perked up, standing on her toes to try to see over the crowd.

Isaac closed his eyes for a minute. "By the gym."

They hurried off but not before catching the eye of Scott, who followed behind them, accompanied by Stiles.

"What?" Scott demanded when they found Derek in a lone classroom beside the gym.

Scott had always talked to Derek with absolutely no respect. Isaac knew that if he tried that it would get him a smack in the head.

"What is he doing here?" Derek demanded, pointing at Stiles.

"You wound me!" Stiles told him, clutching at his chest. "I'm getting pretty sick of your humanist ways."

"Humanist." Derek repeated, his tone deadpanned.

"You know, like racist but against anyone who isn't a werewolf." Stiles explained as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Derek closed his eyes for a moment, a sign that he was trying to cool himself down. "Whatever. One of our kind was killed last night-,"

"Allison says it wasn't the Argent's." Scott piped up instantly.

"And you believe her?" Isaac spat.

It wasn't that Isaac didn't like Allison. She was hot and she was actually okay to be around, when she wasn't acting holier than thou. It was her family that he didn't like, didn't trust at all. Okay, and he didn't trust Allison, either. What was their trust based on? Her love for Scott? Their high school relationship?

"It wasn't one of them." Derek cut in quickly. Scott had turned on Isaac and looked about ready to tear him a new one with his claws.

"How do you know?" Erica asked, hopping up onto the desk beside Derek. She put a hand on his arm.

"I tracked the scent. It's no one I've come across before." He said quietly, frowning. "I don't know who it is, but it looks like we've got some new players in town."

* * *

"It's Joshua Winston." Josh repeated, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

Josh hated public schools. Back in New York he went to a private school, where admittance was hard to come by, not just handed out to anyone who wanted to apply.

_Speak of letting just anyone in,_ he thought, eying the group of four teenagers walking past the office. They were broken into sets of two, a blonde girl and light haired boy walking at a slower pace behind the others. He knew them already. Isaac Lahey and Erica- something. The other one was Scott McCall. The third boys name was unknown, for now. He wasn`t important.

"Joshua?" The secretary pulled him back to earth and away from the digesting abominations walking through the hall.

"Sorry." He said quickly.

The secretary smiled at him. "Don't worry about it." There was something just beneath that smile, like a hidden intent.

Joshua internally rolled his eyes. She was, what? Thirty, at least. And, to be quite honest, not very attractive. Josh was used to this kind of thing, though. Women flocked to him. He had medium length brown hair was that was set into unruly curls and wide green eyes. And there was something about Josh that seemed to make women weak at the knees, something more than just a handsome face and toned body.

"H-here's your schedule." The secretary handed it to him, her hand brushing suggestively against his.

"Thanks." He told her, giving her a quick, tight lipped smile.

"Have fun on your first day!" She called after him as he hurried out the door.

Josh could just spot the three werewolves down the hall. _Oh, I'll have fun, alright._

* * *

_**Thank you for reading! Takes a second to leave a review and it means a lot. :) - C**_


	3. Committee

"Where are you going?" Erica asked, running up behind me. "We need to talk to Derek and-,"

"I'm going to dance committee." Isaac told her, not waiting to hear what else she was going to say.

Erica stopped dead in her tracks. Isaac kept going, but he could sense the shock and annoyance radiating from her.

"Dance committee?" She spat out when she caught up to him. "_You_ on dance committee?"

Isaac shrugged. "They needed extra volunteers and-,"

Erica laughed. "Don't pretend like you and I both don't know why you're doing this. I heard that flighty little blonde thing talking to her teacher about being on the committee."

Isaac didn't say anything. It wasn't any of Erica's business. He already knew that what he was doing was ridiculous. He'd known since lunch, when he'd decided, in his mind, to go. But Erica wouldn't understand. Hell, he didn't even understand. Not really.

All he knew was that he wanted to go, and so he was going.

"You're welcome to join me." He suggested, but they were both aware that he was teasing her and not actually extending an invitation.

"Maybe I will," she commented, examining her nails the way any normal girl would to see if she had chipped her nail polish. Only in Erica's case her nails were currently long and sharp enough to slice through human flesh. "Maybe I'll give your little friend Carrie a hand."

Isaac rolled his eyes. There was no actual animosity coming from Erica, just boredom and something else, something that Erica always tried to keep hidden.

As much as they fought with each other, or pushed each other's buttons, Isaac genuinely cared for Erica. She was like his sister. Albeit his younger and annoying sister, but still.

"You might actually enjoy it." He told her. "It's something to do, and you might make a friend."

She snorted. "I don't need a friend."

Isaac shrugged and walked ahead of her. "Whatever."

Isaac made his way to the gym without Erica following behind me, shouldering past students that walked too slow or just generally annoyed him. Since he'd be turned, Isaac had never had confidence issues. He'd never hesitated, never second guessed himself.

So when he stopped just outside the gym door, he was surprised. There was a feeling in his gut telling him to just walk away, that Erica was right about this whole thing being ridiculous.

Plus, why go through all this effort for just one girl? One girl who wasn't even that hot, really. Or interesting. Or special.

"Are you coming in?" A small, feminine voice asked.

"Yeah, definitely." Isaac told Carrie, a frown forming on his attractive face. She had snuck up on him. He had had absolutely no warning that she was behind him.

Perhaps he had just been distracted, he considered as he followed her slight body into the large gym. People were already crowded around tables, some making decorations, other's hanging some.

Or maybe there was something special about Carrie after all.

"What you need to do is," Carrie paused and grabbed a pair of scissors. "Take this banner here, and I want you to cut even, uniform strips almost all the way through it. Leave about a two inch section at the top, here-," she pointed to where she meant. "To keep it from falling apart."

She turned around for a second and Isaac extended his claws and quickly slashed four equal, uniform strips exactly how she'd told him.

"Like this?" He asked when she turned around.

Carrie frowned and looked up at him, confusion and something close to terror flashing in her eyes. It passed as quickly as it came and she smiled. "Yes, exactly like that."

* * *

_What is wrong with him_? Erica thought as she sat outside and tried not to listen to what Isaac was doing it. It wasn't her fault that she was used to eavesdropping o him and it came naturally to her. Plus, from what she could tell, he was showing off in there, openly changing in front of that little bimbo.

Even when eavesdropping, though, Erica was good at keeping her senses partially on her surroundings. It was one of the only things that Derek commended her on. She, unlike Boyd or Isaac, was always aware of herself first. Even in a fight she could put 90% of her attention on killing her opponent but still keep that 10% on watching her back.

Someone was walking up behind her. Someone who smelled like Hugo Boss cologne and something metallic. No, not metallic. Blood. They smelled like blood, or-danger. That was what her senses were picking up on. He smelled like danger.

"Hey." The boy said, sliding into the bench beside her.

Erica considered making an annoyed, snappy remark, but she got a good look at him first. He had curly brown hair that, normally, wouldn't be that attractive, but somehow worked on him. His eyes were a mix of bright green and dark green that reminded her of a forest, and there was something in that wicked grin that made her interested.

"Hi." She responded, giving him a grin of her own.

"I'm Josh." He said, extending a hand to her. And there was that scent again- that dangerous undertone. Something was off under that pretty face and Erica could tell. Too bad for him, she liked to play with toys that actually knew how to bite back.

"Erica."

"I'm new here." he told her, looking up at her from under his long lashes, as if that would make him seem vulnerable or innocent.

"That's unfortunate." Erica told him, standing up. "This school sucks."

She walked away, putting extra emphasis on her hip swings as she went. She smiled, picking up on the sense and smell of his desire. That one was her favourite. It reminded her of cinnamon, almost. Something sweet and delicious but with a little bit of spice.

* * *

The dance committee meeting was two hours long. Since Carrie was in charge she was constantly flitting around, telling people what to do, where to go, how to hang things. Isaac had found every reason to call her over, though. To double check on the banner, to asking her if it was hung right, "A little more to the left, maybe?", to whether or not he should use tape on just the corners, or the entire banner.

There was something about Isaac that Carrie was both drawn too and wary about. She wished she could say that it was just his handsome face that enticed her, but it wasn't. Well, it wasn't _just_ that. There was something about him that made her feel… electrified.

But there was something inside her constantly screaming to run from him, or hide, or even attack. Anything to protect herself from whatever unseen danger lurked inside him. She didn't completely understand what it was, really, just that it was there.

It was best, she decided, to just stay as far away from him as she could. If that was possible.

* * *

"He's _where_?" Derek demanded. He couldn't have heard her right. She couldn't have said that Isaac was-

"The dance committee." Erica repeated. He could sense that she was slightly pleased at Derek's reaction.

Derek pulled a cell phone from his pocket and dialled Isaac's number. There was no answer. Resisting the urge to throw the phone at a wall, he dialled another.

"Stiles," Derek barked into the phone when he answered. "I need you to do something for me."

"Hi to you, too, Derek. How's your day, Stiles? Oh, good, thanks for asking. You're always so nice to me." Derek could just imagine him, phone pressed to his ear and rolling his brown eyes.

Derek didn't say anything. He found often enough that silence was the best tactic. After a few seconds Stiles' sighed.

"What do you want? I'm not agreeing to anything unless you tell me what it is first."

Now Derek was the one rolling his eyes. "I need you to go back to school and get Isaac. He's in the gym for… dance committee." He paused as Stiles' burst into laughter. "Drag him out of there if you have to."

"First, I value being alive too much to attempt that, and second of all, why can't you do it yourself?

"Because I'm busy and I don't have time." Derek snapped.

"No one ever considers that _I _might be busy." Stiles muttered. "Ask Erica to do it."

"I'm busy _with Eric_a_."_

"I'm not doing your work for you so that you and Erica and get it on-,"

"_**Stiles**_," Derek put power behind the word, enough that even Stiles could sense it over the phone.

"Okay, okay, I'm going." He agreed.

Derek hung up the phone and put it back into his pocket.

"Back to training!" Derek ordered and Erica and Boyd stood up and got to work.

* * *

**Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed please leave a review. Also, if it seems a bit slow starting out that's because I like to develop the characters a bit before diving into all the action, but it _will _pick up! :) - C**


	4. Attack

The house was empty when Carrie got home. There were the usual signs that her mother had been there; one half empty glass on the coffee table that smelled suspiciously like the bottle of vodka Carrie had hidden from her mother, a piece of crust from a sandwich on a plate on the counter, every piece of makeup in the bathroom out of place.

Carrie sighed and walked over the fridge. There was a mouldy, miniscule piece of cheese, a few pieces of expired lunch meet, a jar of mayonnaise that was practically empty, unless you scraped the bottom and even then she figured you couldn't get much out of it. Other than that, it was bare. She checked the freezer, too, and it wasn't much better. A freezer burnt chicken nugget and some ice cubes.

"God damn it." Carrie muttered, slamming the door.

Her mother was supposed to get groceries while she was at school, or at least leave Carrie enough money to pick some up when she got home. There was no money left anywhere around the house, though. Not even a spare dollar stuck between the couch cushions.

Carrie sunk onto the couch in frustration. Sometimes she wondered why she stuck around with her mother. She had known for years about her mother's addictions to both drugs and alcohol, of her flighty personality and her ability to spend all of their rent money in a day. But she loved her mom, despite it all. And without her, she knew that her mother would be in a ditch somewhere, dying. Because Carrie took care of her. Carrie took care of everything.

At quarter to nine her mother still wasn't back. Carrie wasn't worried nor suspicious. This was a common occurrence.

She went to her bedroom and opened her closet door, pulling out an old pair of jeans that hadn't fit her in years. Inside the back pocket was a hidden stash of money. There wasn't much in there, barely over a hundred, but she was hungry.

She dialled a local pizza place and ordered a small plain pizza and then returned to the couch to wait. Less than fifteen minutes later, someone buzzed her apartment.

Carrie frowned. There was no way the pizza was here already. She went over to the window and opened it.

"Hello?" She called.

There was no answer for a second but then her mother stepped into the light, a hand on her hip, her lips pursed.

"I forgot my key." She yelled up.

"One second, I'll buzz you up." Carrie shouted back.

She was just pulling away from the window when something caught her eye. To the left of their building was a road, but the right was forest. She could faintly see something red, glowing in the bush. Maybe her mother had tossed a cigarette in there? But if that was the case, why did a cold chill go through her whole body.

And then suddenly the bush moved. The beast that had been hiding inside it was large, larger than any animal she had ever seen before. It was pure black, almost completely blending in with the darkness surrounding it. The eyes were the only completely distinguishable quality: a bright, blood red.

"Mom!" Carrie screamed the word so loud that it left a ringing in her ear. She ran to the door and hit the button that opened the downstairs door. "Come on, come on!" She shouted.

The night filled with screams. The loudest came from a woman. Not just a woman- Carrie's mom. But the screams that sent goosebumps crawling over Carrie's skin, that made her throat close up and her eyes water, were something lower, something animalistic.

Carrie grabbed the baseball bat that leaned against the wall beside the door for emergencies and pulled open her door, not bothering to close it as she ran down towards the staircase. Even through the walls she could hear screaming. Other tenants in the building were reacting to the sound by now, some poking their heads out their doors with curious faces, other's threatening to call the police.

Carrie ignored them, adrenaline pushing her forward. Down a flight of stairs, and another, and another, finally pushing through into lobby.

She could see her mother's body in the small flood of light coming from the building. Her dirty blonde hair was splayed out around her head, her skin looking pale and ghostly against the concrete and the blood- the blood was everywhere. One person couldn't bleed that much. It was like an ocean of blood, right there in the parking lot. Too much to recover from.

The blood made her move forward, but the beast, eyes reflecting the light back at her, caused Carrie to pause mid step.

Fear pounded through her. She had never been scared before in her life, not really. Not compared to this. All of those other fears that she'd ever had paled in comparison to what she felt right now. It was like being doused with ice water, being pricked all over by a million little needles. It was the kind of fear that could paralyse a person. Maybe even kill them.

And that was before it stepped over her mother's body, opened it's mouth revealing sharp, flesh tearing teeth, and growled.

* * *

"How do you two always know?" Officer Miles asked, giving Scott and Stiles a wary look. "Didn't your father tell you to stay out of this place or we're going to start putting you _behind_ the bars?"

"I'm psychic." Stiles said instantly. "I'm considering setting up a business and charging people to hear about how shitty their lives are going to continue to be."

Officer Miles gave him a hard look before turning to Scott. "What do you two want?"

Stiles anxiously placed his hands on the desk. "We want to speak to Carrie. She's a friend of ours from school and-,"

Miles lifted one of his hands. "She's not here."

Scott gave Stiles a confused look and then turned back to Officer Miles. "But we thought-,"

He sighed loudly. "The girl was taken to the hospital. She wouldn't stop screaming long enough to give us a statement. We were told me have to wait."

The two boys exchanged another quick look and turned on their heels.

"Wait-," Miles called after them, but they were already pushing through the front door. "Damn it."

"Give me your phone." Scott said once they were inside Stiles' jeep.

"What? Why?"

"Because I need to call Derek!"

"Use your own." Stiles told him, giving him a weird look.

Scott rolled his eyes. "I don't have his number."

"Why don't you have it?" Stiles demanded while pulling the jeep onto the main street. He was driving slightly over the speed limit but no one seemed to notice. All the police were too busy with the recent murder case, anyways.

"I think the question," Scott commented as he grabbed Stiles' phone from his pocket. "Is why _do _you have it?" He flicked through Stiles' phone and added, "And why is it on speed dial?"

Stiles' shrugged. "I thought it would come in handy."

Scott just raised his eyebrows in amusement and dialled the number.

"What?" Derek asked as soon as he picked up the phone.

"Where are you?" Scott demanded.

"I'm home, where do you think I am?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe killing innocent people?"

Now Stiles' raised his eyebrows at Scott. "Blunt."

The jeep pulled into the hospital parking lot and Stiles' parked it in the first empty spot. Scott followed him out of the vehicle but kept the phone pressed tightly against his ear.

"I love how quick you are to accuse me." Derek said calmly on the other end.

"It couldn't have been anyone else!" Scott shouted. "Stiles' dad still has his police radio and the dispatcher says that the only witness to the attack claims it was done by a 'giant bear with red eyes'."

Derek laughed, but in typical Derek fashion, it was more of a bitter sound than anything close to joyful. "Great!" Derek muttered. "You two talk to the witness, I need to talk to the rest of the pack." He ordered. "And just so you know, Scott, I didn't do this."

The phone went dead in his hand and Scott stared at it for a minute.

"So, the big bad wolf didn't blow the house down this time?" Stiles asked.

Scott shook his head. "It wasn't him."

* * *

_**If you leave a review I will love you forever. Just putting that out there. ;) - C**  
_


	5. Alone

Sometimes the world isn't what you think. Sometimes there are… things, things that any normal person couldn't handle. And sometimes these things are thrown at you with no warning and either have to deal or go insane.

Or, in some cases, both.

_The room was bare except for a bed and a small bedside table with a serving tray of food beside it. Carrie sat up and blinked the blinding light out of her eyes. Normally waking up to so much light would irritate her, but for once she was grateful for it. Every corner of the room was illuminated. Nothing could hide in here._

"_Nothing can hide in here." Carrie told herself. "Nothing."_

_There was a high pitched scratching noise from under the hospital bed, like someone was dragging their nails over the linoleum floor. Someone, or something._

"_Nurse!" Carrie said the words as calmly as she could. It was nothing. Maybe a mouse, or maybe just her imagination._

_The nurse didn't come._

_The scratching continued, moving from what sounded like the end of the bed towards the front. By her feet, then her ankles, then he knees. Suddenly it stopped._

_Carrie took a deep breath and counted to three. When the scratching didn't continue she let the breath out and rolled over, tucking her hand under the pillow. She still felt tired. Another hour or two of sleep would be good for her._

_Just as she was drifting off again, another sound caught her attention. A ripping sound, like cloth being torn or shredded, coming from under the bed._

_Clutching the sheet to her chest, Carrie put a hand on the edge of the bed and leaned forward and inch, two inches, three. Any more and she would be leaning over the bed. Her nails dug into the cotton and she was about to look underneath when a clawed hand ripped through the bed, tearing through the mattress like a piece of paper. _

_It grabbed her leg and dug in, forming little welts that leaked blood, turning the clawed fingers crimson. She began to scream._

Carrie sat upright, her heart pounding in her chest. It was a dream. Just a dream.

"You're awake." A nurse commented, walking into the room. She gave Carrie a quick smile. "How are you feeling."

"I'm-," Her voice broke. Her throat was dry and raw, as if she'd spent a lot of time screaming. Her head felt heavy, too, the way it always did after crying for too long.

And slowly it came back to her. The reason for the dream, her mother's screams. The best, crouching over her bloodied body.

"My mom-,"

"Not now, sweetie." The nurse ordered gently. She placed a cup in Carrie's hand. "Drink this for now and we'll talk after."

"But-,"

The nurse shook her head, placed the cup on the bedside table when Carrie made no move to hold it, and walked from the room.

Carrie frowned at the door as it closed. She wanted to yell and scream and demand answers, but that just wasn't like her. She was calm and level headed. Always.

And she did what she was told.

After downing the entire glass of water in one sip, Carrie's throat started to feel a bit better. Actually, everything felt better, even aches that she hasn't realized she had. It was like every part of her body was suddenly free and weightless.

_They drugged me,_ a small voice in Carrie's mind whispered, but she didn't want to listen. She was enjoying feeling like she was unattached to anything, even her own body. All too soon, though, the door to the hospital room was opening and Carrie felt herself falling back into reality.

"Officer Stilinski." She stared up at him in confusion. "What are you doing here?"

"Hey, kiddo." He said, walking into the room. The door was left open and she could see another officer waiting outside. "How're you feeling?"

There was something sad about the droop of his shoulders and his drawn together eyes. Carrie didn't trust the casual tone of his voice.

"Where's my mother?"

"Do you mind if I sit?" Stilinski asked, ignoring her question.

Carrie moved her legs so he'd have room. He sunk down onto the bed, facing the wall instead of Carrie.

"We found you passed out in the lobby of your apartment building." He told her, his voice low and serious. "The doctors think that you were in shock."

Carrie nodded. She remembered. The world had started to get dark around her and that- thing, it opened it's mouth and it was like her brain couldn't handle it. It just turned off.

"I just want to know if she's okay." Carrie said quietly.

Stilinski sighed. "I hate doing this." He muttered, putting his face in his hands. It was a long moment before he regained his composure and turned to Carrie. "She didn't make it."

Four little words, spoken in a near whisper by someone who was practically a stranger. Four little words that unravelled her entire world.

_She didn't make it._

_She didn't make it._

_She's dead._

"And what about the thing that killed her?" Carrie's words were spoken so quietly that it was a surprise that Office Stilinski even heard them.

"We're looking for it."

* * *

"You really should clean this place." Erica commented, picking up a mouldy piece of pizza with just the tips of her nails. She frowned at Isaac in distaste. "It looks like an animal lives her."

He grinned. "One does."

"So did Derek come talk to you last night?" She asked, sidestepping something that could have been a burger but also could be the decayed body of a small rodent.

Isaac frowned. "No, why?"

She grinned. "He came to me, and I know he spoke to Boyd, too."

"About what?"

"A murder."

Isaac's head jerked up in response. "What?"

Erica grinned. One thing that girl loved to do was tell a story, and she always had to do it in the most dramatic way possible.

"A woman. She was ripped apart by something. Apparently her body and face were so mangled that they couldn't have identified the body without the witness." She paused. "The witness just happened to be her daughter. She went crazy afterwards, I heard."

The words chilled Isaac. Fear wasn't something he had to feel anymore, but somehow it seemed to sneak up on him anyways. Even Erica looked disturbed by her words.

"Do you want to know the worst part?" Erica asked as the two of them moved out of the living room and up the stairs. "We both know her. She's a student at Beacon Hills. Carrie."

Isaac stopped mid step, his foot hanging in the air. He gently put it down. "Why didn't Derek come talk to me about it?"

"I may have told him you have a little crush on Carrie."

"And what killed her?"

"That's the thing- Derek doesn't know."

* * *

"A big bear?" Josh repeated, pretending to frown in confusion. "Can you tell me anything else?"

"You're asking quite a lot of questions for a school newspaper." Officer Miles commented, raising an eyebrow.

Josh flashed one of his winning smiles. "I'm an overachiever."

"Well, like I said- the girl was too out of it to give of a statement, but Officer Stilinski and I could get out of her was that it was a big bear with sharp claws." Officer Miles sighed. "Now, I'm sorry but I have a murder case to deal with, obviously, so if we could wrap up here?"

Josh nodded and stood up. "Thank you for your time."

Once in his car, a silver mustang convertible - Josh didn't like roofs-, he pulled his cellphone out of his pocket and dialled a number, one he knew off by heart. One of the first rules as a hunter that he'd been taught was to never leave anything traceable, not even a phone number in some random cellphone.

"What did you find out?"

"The only witness claims that it was a bear." Josh said, summing up the entire meeting with Officer Miles in one sentence.

"Are you sure she didn't mean a big wolf?"

"No, she distinctly said bear, with long claws." Josh put more conviction in his words this time. "Definitely the word bear."

"Then maybe it really was just a bear."

Josh shook his head before remember that they were talking on a phone. "No," he shot down. "It was definitely something supernatural. The only other description I got was that it had glowing red eyes. Of course, everyone thinks the witness is crazy but I think we both know that's not the case."

"Well, keep your eyes open. That woman wasn't attacked in a secluded place. The beast risked exposure. There's got to be a reason for that."

Josh mumbled his consent and hung up the phone.

* * *

"No, my mom was the only family I know." Carrie said quietly. That's how she'd been saying everything for the last twenty four hours. She wasn't sure if it was from the grief or the absolute terror that seemed to course through her veins. Maybe both.

Officer Stilinski hesitated. For some reason he was the only person Carrie would talk to. She thought maybe it had to do with the fact that she was the only officer she'd ever had a conversation with before her mother- , she stopped the thought. Maybe it was just the fact that he was a genuinely good person.

"I don't know how comfortable I feel about you going back to that apartment by yourself." He told her.

"There's no foster system set up in Beacon Hills. The best we can do it wait until Monday and take her into the city-," Officer Miles spoke up.

Carrie's eyes widened and she shook her head fiercely at Officer Stilinski. "I'm okay at home. I promise. I don't need to get a foster home. I'm seventeen. I can live alone."

Officer Stilinski gave her a sad look and turned to Miles. The two of them whispered amongst themselves for a minute.

"Try asking boss. He makes all the executive decisions. I'm not sure if that's legal or not." Miles said finally, sighing and leaning back in his chair.

Stilinski gave raised an index finger, signalling one minute, and slipped out the door.

Miles spread his fingers out on the table. He was an older man, probably in his late forties, and from what Carrie knew he had a wife and a kid. He seemed like an okay person, but Carrie didn't like him.

"So, Carrie…" he said awkwardly. Carrie just stared at him, blue eyes wide.

The room remained silent after that, until finally Officer Stilinski returned. He sat at the table again, not saying anything. He riffled through paperwork for a few seconds.

"You have two options, Carrie, and you can chose either one, no one is stopping you." He said, looking straight into her eyes. "Option one is you go home to your apartment. You're seventeen and not legally an adult, but you're at an age where, if you so chose, you may live on your own." He spoke slowly so she would catch every word. "Or you can stay at my home for a while until you figure everything out."

Carrie leaned back in her chair, dumbstruck. "Stay… with… you?" She repeated, eyebrows drawn together.

Officer Stilinski nodded. "Like I said, you can chose the other option. I would worry a lot less if you had someone else to look after you, but like you said, you have no other immediate family and there's no foster system here."

Carrie was torn. Part of her didn't trust anyone at the moment, not even the kind faced officer. But a larger part of her, the part of her that couldn't stop thinking of red eyes hiding in the corners of every inch of her lonely apartment.

"I don't want to bother anyone…" She said without looking at him.

"My house isn't the biggest, but we've got an extra bedroom. If you really want to stay, it's not an issue." He assured her. "Don't worry about anyone else for a second, Carrie, worry about you. What do you want?"

"I don't want to be alone."

"This is the kitchen," he pointed at a small room with a stove, sink and fridge. It was slightly messy, more than a few dishes in the sink. "The dinning room is through there." Anther small room, this one occupied by a medium sized table littered with papers. "Livingroom." This room was larger, with a comfortable looking couch and a reasonably sized tv.

He led her up a short flight of stairs. "Bathroom." He pointed to the first door on the left. " My room." Second door on the left. "Stiles' room." Room directly across from the bathroom. And finally… "Guest room."

The room was medium sized with a single bed pushed against the left wall. There was a beautifully crafted desk on the right side of the room, covered in perfume bottles, make up and a few boxes, a large mirror situated in the middle. There was tasteful blue curtains covering the large window above the bed and a bedside table with a lamp on it.

"It's not much, but we'll get your things tomorrow." Stilinski told her. "Is there anything you need?" He asked awkwardly.

Carrie knew that he had one child, Stiles. She figured he had no idea what to do with a daughter and knew that if she burst into tears he would most likely hightail it out of there.

"I'm okay." She told him.

He nodded. "I've got to get back to work. I'll be home later, but Stiles should be back in half an hour. He has a curfew. There's food in the fridge and the phone is beside the couch. If you need, the neighbours are right beside us so if it comes to that, just scream loudly." he told her, and then realized that he probably scared her by saying that. "There's also a lock on that window there, if you need."

Carrie gave him a weak smile. "Okay. And thank you, for, you know, everything." Officer Stilinski sheepishly nodded his head. "And one more thing… do I call your Officer Stilinski of Mr. Stilinski, or-,"

"Sherriff Stilinski works fine." He said before turning around and walking down the hallway, leaving Carrie alone in the warm room.

Carrie gingerly perched on the end of the bed. The comforter was pulled carefully over the mattress, not a crinkle in sight. The pillows were perfectly fluffed and there was not a single thing out of place in the entire room.

Carrie reached out and touched a miniature rocking horse that sat on the bedside table. When she pulled her fingers back, they were covered in dust. Upon further inspection, everything in the entire room, except for the bed, was covered in a fine layer of the stuff.

The only thing that looked to be frequently touched was the picture frame on the desk. The frame itself was a bit worn, you could tell that it was old, but it was shinny and clean, as if it was taken care of very well.

The picture was of a young boy, maybe thirteen, who was most definitely Stiles. He was thinner, sort of gangly the way most boys were at that age. Beside him was Sherriff Stilinski, out of uniform. He was smiling and there seemed to be considerably less wrinkles on his face. And on Stiles' other side, her hand entwined with Sherriff Stilinski's, was a woman.

She had long, thick brown hair and brown eyes that crinkled at the side. Her mouth was wide and smiling, and her cheeks were flushed. If someone wanted to draw the emotion joy and content, they would draw this woman. It was something in her eyes, and the way that she leaned towards the man and put her right arm around the child.

Carrie felt like she was intruding on something she wasn't supposed to witness. She put the picture down exactly where she left it, just when the front door to the house opened.

Carrie froze, heart rising in her throat. She waited a second, two, three, figuring that Stiles would say something. Call out to his father or _something_. Who ever it was, though, stayed quite.

Footsteps creaked on the floor and Carrie panicked. There had to be _something _here she could use to defend herself. The best thing she could find, though, was the umbrella, leaning against the closet door.

She grabbed it and gripped it hard, raising it just above shoulder level so she could easily swing it. The footsteps reached the top of the stairs and she sucked in a deep breath. They were by the bathroom now, slowly making their way closer.

Carrie swung as hard as she could. A scream escaped her mouth and she ducked as it connected with something hard and popped open.

The person she hit made a yelping sound and then shouted, "What the hell?!"

The umbrella fell and Stiles stood there, eyes wide, a red mark already forming on his right arm.

"Oh, god." Carrie muttered, sinking to the ground. "I'm so sorry!"

She covered her face with her hand and pulled her knees up to her chest. She could feel the familiar pressure of tears building in her head.

This is what the rest of her life would be like. Always afraid, always hiding. Always crying and grieving.

"Woah, hey, um-," Stiles awkwardly patted her head. "It's okay, I'm not that hurt."

"I attacked you in your own _house_." She wailed, not lifting her head. "I'm going crazy. Oh god, I'm going crazy and I hate this and I hate being afraid of everything." She wiped at her face, trying to get the tears off. "And I _can't stop crying."_

"It's not all that bad." Stiles said, bending down to her level. "I brought home burgers."

Carrie looked up into the brown eyes of a boy she'd only had a handful of conversations with in her entire life, who was witnessing her in her worst moment, and unbelievably, she laughed. It was a weird, choking laugh from the tears still stuck in her throat, and her face was red and soaked, her eyes bloodshot, but it was a laugh nonetheless.

* * *

**So I haven't updated in a few days, but to make up for it I made this an extra long update! :) Reviews are always appreciated! - C**


	6. Gravity

"I'm sorry I've been unavailable this past day." Allison said, putting her hand in Scott's. "My dad's been freaking out, and-,"

"Freaking out?" Scott asked quickly. "Why?"

She shook her head. "I'm not sure, exactly. They found some footprints, apparently, but they're not sure what they are"

Scott frowned, staring out the window at nothing in particular. "Footprints…"

"And then they said something about a murder, and they're positive that whatever made those prints was behind it." Allison finished this time before Scott could add anything. "Isn't that weird? It was like they were positive it wasn't a werewolf."

"Not a werewolf?"

Allison shrugged. "It was bigger. Something about the shape was a little different too." Her eyebrows furrowed together. "Scott, you don't think that there's something else out there… something more dangerous than-,"

Scott squeezed her hand in his. "Don't worry." He told her. "Nothing will ever happen to you. No matter what."

She tilted her head away from his. "It's not me I'm worried about. It's not even you."

"Ouch." Scott joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Allison gave him a sad smile. "You're not going to be hunting this thing. But my dad…"

"Is far more experienced than any of us. He'll be okay. He knows what he's doing." Scott assured her.

Scott put a gentle hand on her chin and turned her face towards his, trying to put as much assurance as he could in one look. "For right now, at least, every thing is okay."

"For now." She agreed.

* * *

Derek paused outside Stiles house. There was something that always made him pause before sneaking in. He had no issues jumping through Scott's window completely unannounced. Maybe it was the fear of missing the Sheriffs scent and having him be inside.

Stiles was inside. He could see the boy walking past his bedroom window. His father wasn't home, though. The car wasn't outside and he always worked shifts on Saturday nights.

There was also the slightly feminine scent surrounding the house that Derek figured was left behind by Stiles' mother. The entire guest bedroom held all her belongings. The one time Derek had broken into it he could almost sense the woman that he had never met in there. It had been eerie.

Derek shook himself once and jumped, fingers grazing the window sill. He sharpened his claws quickly and ripped through the screen before jumping through.

Stiles visibly jumped and clutched at his heart before narrowing his eyes at Derek. Derek resisted the urge to laugh, something that rarely happened, and mirrored the look on Stiles' face.

"You're going to do something for me." Derek told him, crossing his arms over his chest.

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Maybe if you ask nicely."

Derek bared his teeth. "I am asking nicely."

Stiles can a hand through his hair and sighed. "Well I'm busy right now. Ask someone else. I'm sure Boyd or Erica-,"

Derek made a low, growling noise. "If they could do it I would have asked them, wouldn't I?"

Stiles stopped moving around the room and turned to Derek. There was something hard and angry in his usually mischief filled eyes.

"There is a girl in the next room whose mother just died and who just beat me with an umbrella which, by the way, actually hurt. My father is at work trying to figure out what it is and Scott is running off somewhere, fooling around with Allison. And you are harassing me. I'm _so sick_ of everyone treating me like a god damn slave because I'm Stiles and I'm human and I don't turn into a fucking animal on the full moon. Well guess what?"

Stiles shoved Derek, hard.

"I'm done having you guys intimidate me. You hear me? Done. So you can take your furry little ass and _fuck off_."

Derek was so shocked by the outburst that when Stiles shoved him again, he actually fell backwards, arm hitting the edge of Stiles desk.

"Stiles, calm down." Derek ordered in his calmest voice, despite the anger bubbling in him from the wound on his arm. The wound that was, in fact, not healing. He frowned at it.

"Coming from the guy who flashes his canines whenever someone says something even slightly disagreeing." Stiles muttered sarcastically. "And if you're wondering why your arm isn't healing, the whole house is lined with a type of wolfs bane powder that Deaton gave me. As long as you're in here, it's not going to heal."

Derek was torn between feeling mildly impressed and wanting to rip Stiles' head off.

And then the feeling faded completely, leaving behind a calm that Derek hadn't genuinely felt in years. Like everything was settled, for just a second. And with that feeling came a scent, one that he had initially picked up when he'd approached the house, something feminine that he'd put off, thinking it was just leftover from Stiles' mother.

"Who is here?" he demanded, tilting his head to the left.

"I just told you," Stiles hissed. "Remember the woman who was killed yesterday? That's her daughter. My father-,"

Derek turned and went for the door but Stiles grabbed his shoulder. "Where are you going?"

Derek looked at him, raising his eyebrows.

"Oh no, you can't go talk to her. She nearly had a nervous break down when she saw me and, I hate to break this to you, but I'm a lot less scary to look at."

"There's something off about her." Derek murmured to himself, running a hand over his face, trying to figure out what it is. "It's like, I caught her scent and I just-,"

"Just what?"

"Didn't want to kill you anymore."

"Well that's great for you and all but you're not going to talk to her." Stiles told him, not letting himself feel intimidated by the cold stare Derek was giving him.

Derek chuckled. "And you're going to stop me?"

Stiles stood in front of the door. "If I have to."

Derek's eyes flashed with anger, but they didn't turn the red that Stiles had become used to since he became the alpha. They flashed a blinding light blue that he hadn't seen since that time so long ago when Derek was still a beta.

Derek pulled away from Stiles, shocked. He had almost felt the change of power, like he wasn't the only one in the room in charge of things.

It wasn't just power, though. It was like the gravitational pull shifted and he leaned towards Stiles. Stiles leaned towards him, too, and-

No, they couldn't. They _couldn't_.

_Rip his throat out!_ everything in Derek screamed, but his body seemed to feel differently and he closed the difference, his lips briefly pressing against Stiles'. The other body was barely shorter than him and for once leaning down wasn't an issue.

And suddenly Derek balled his hands into fists and punched Stiles right in the jaw. Not hard enough to break it, but hard enough that they both jumped out of whatever was pulling them together.

"Figure out what killed that woman." Derek growled, taking a few steps backwards. He turned to face the window, ready to jump back out of it. "Or I'll kill you." He threw over his shoulder.

* * *

_**Weoooo, so I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I hope that the Sterek thing didn't come out of nowhere and if seems kind of confusing now it will make sense later on... so.. yeah. Review if you enjoyed and thank you for reading! - C**_


	7. Attraction

The 'closed' sign was hanging on the door of the vet but Derek ignored it, tugging hard on the door. It wasn't locked, just like he figured.

"Derek, what a surprise." Deaton greeted. "Can I help you with something."

"You know why I'm here." He said, placing his hands on the counter. "The wolfs bane that you gave Stiles-,"

"Ah, that." He looked vaguely amused. "So I assume it worked, then?"

Derek nodded. "I could feel my body trying to keep but it just _wouldn't_."

Deaton smiled. "That will make Mr. Stilinski happy, at least."

Derek ground his teeth together. "There's something else…"

Deaton looked up, eyebrows raised. It was almost as if he knew what Derek was going to say and he was just waiting for him to say it, enjoying every second of Derek being uncomfortable.

"Something- something happened that I don't-,"

"Happened with who?"

Derek's eyes turned red briefly. "That's not important. But something happened today, and it was like- it was like I wasn't in control, and-,"

"You're a werewolf, Derek, aren't you used to that by now?" Deaton questioned.

Derek turned away from the calm-faced doctor. There was something about the man that always put him off. Maybe it was the way that he seemed to see far more than he should have, and he always looked at you too closely, searching for something but never telling you what.

"Not like that. I wasn't turning, I was… attracted, against my will."

Deaton's smile widened. "Ah, I know exactly what you're talking about. Tell me, was your mind telling you one thing and your body doing another?"

Derek grudgingly nodded. "I didn't _want_-,"

"When these things happen it does not matter what you want, Derek. You see, sometimes you will meet someone, or someone you will know will do something, and you will subconsciously realize that they could be a good potential mate. Ask Scott about it. Do you think that the kind of love he and Allison has is just coincidence?" he paused, giving Derek a second to take in his words. "No, it's not. When Scott first met Allison his body needed her, and his mind just so happened to agree." The smile turned more wistful now. "I think that all great romances start with lust, don't you?"

Derek balled his hands into fists. "But this happened with someone that I… I don't-,"

"Well, there is ways to fight it, of course. Staying away from the person, trying to teach your body to resist it's urges. It can be harder than anything you've ever done, though. You think bloodlust is hard to fight, but rage is nothing compared to desire." Deaton told him cautiously. Then he hesitated. "If you could tell me exactly what happened, I could help more. Did you just meet this young lady, or-,"

"It's someone I've known for a while." Derek said despite his wish not to talk about it. "H-she was yelling at me, and she said something about refusing to be treated like she was weak because she was human, and then he pushed- she pushed me, and my arm cut open, and then something even weirder happened." This was the part Derek was really confused about, well, besides the kiss that he didn't even want to think about. "It was like the world stopped spinning, just for a second. Everything was out of place and I wasn't in control, not the way I have been since-,"

"Since you became an Alpha." Deaton guessed. He was no longer smiling but instead looking extremely interesting. "So this person, they asserted their power over you." He frowned, lost in thought. "Some people, Derek, are born to be Alphas. It's not about power, or compassion, or even intelligence or ability to lead. It's a combination of those things. A bravery that goes far deeper than any strength could go. It sounds like whoever you were with tonight realized that bravery and you could sense it, not with this," he tapped Derek's head once before Derek flinched away with annoyance. "But with your animal instinct."

Deaton smiled that amused smile of his again. "And that's probably what formed the attraction bond, the knowledge that you were equals. Some people are happy just protecting and being strong, and some people need someone who is going to challenge them. Especially people like you who, I bet, hasn't been challenged by many people. At least, none that weren't trying to murder you."

"So this whole… thing, it has nothing to do with how I feel about St- him. I mean her. It's just attraction. Something that I can't help." Derek concluded.

"Exactly." Deaton agreed. "Though I must say, sometimes our instincts lead us in the right direction. Just something for you to keep in mind before you start avoiding Mr. Stilinski."

Derek froze. "How did you-,"

"It doesn't take a genius to work that one out." He gave Derek a knowing look before pushing him out of the building. "Now, I'm going to have to get a bigger closed sign since no one ever seems to notice it."

* * *

"I'm really sorry if I'm being a burden." Carrie said on the drive to her apartment.

The girl had spoken less than ten sentences since the night before when she'd hit Stiles with the umbrella, and that was only when she was asked a question.

Sheriff Stilinski had asked his son to drive her to her old apartment to get a few of her things and her clothes. Stiles didn't really mind. He remembered how hard things were for him, right after his mother died. He couldn't imagine how it was to go through that with no one left to grieve with you, with no one to go home to or to tell you it would be okay, even though it wouldn't.

Plus, anything to distract him right now was good. His jaw still ached from where Derek had punched him, and he had been constantly reliving the kiss in his mind.

What had even happened? Looking back, he couldn't picture himself ever kissing Derek. Half the time he wanted to hit Derek with a hard, pointy stick. But he hadn't been able to help himself. It was like he was being controlled by someone, the way Jackson had been a few months ago, before everything finally rightened itself, for a bit.

"Don't worry about it." Stiles said after a few moments, having forget that Carrie had spoke.

It wasn't just the fact that she was quiet that alerted Stiles to how badly she was dealing. He hadn't spoken to her much before, but he had seen her in passing many times, and the physical changes were there. Her cheeks looked thinner, though it had only been two days. Her hair was limp and her eyes were constantly red. Her shoulders seemed to shrink in, too, as if she was trying to make her already slight form smaller.

"Turn here." She said, pointing to the left.

Stiles swung the jeep in that direction. At the end of the short street was a desolate looking building, the kind of place that people without any other options lived.

"I'll be back down in a minute." Carrie told him when he pulled the jeep to a stop out front of the building.

"You sure you don't need help carrying anything?"

Carrie nodded. "I'll be okay."

Stiles turned the vehicle off and leaned back in his seat. It was hot, too hot. He rolled down his window and closed his eyes. The second he did, though, Derek's eyes flashed in his mind. Just like last night, it wasn't that blood red colour, but the light blue. What was that about, anyways?

Someone knocked loudly on the passenger window and Stiles jumped.

"Jesus christ," he muttered, frowning at Isaac. "What is it with werewolves and sneaking up on people?"

Isaac just grinned, clearly amused by the reaction Stiles had to him. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Stiles leaned over and opened the door. Isaac paused before getting in. "Who's been in here?" He asked, sniffing the air. "I-,"

"Carrie Pern. She goes to school with us, her mom is the one that-,"

"I know who she is." Isaac muttered, looking around. "Where is she?"

Stiles nodded up at the building in front of them.

"Derek didn't tell me…" He trailed off, looking confused.

"Why would he?" Now Stiles was confused and interested. "I didn't know you two knew each other."

"We don't." Isaac said quickly. "I just- never mind. Derek sent me here to ask you-,"

"Oh, so now he's not talking to me?" Stiles demanded. For some reason this annoyed him a lot. It wasn't as if he was the one who had kissed Derek. And _he was the one who got punched in the face! _

"No, he said he was busy doing something with Erica." Isaac said slowly. He tiled his head to the side. "Is there something going on with you two?"

"Why would you ask that?" Stiles said quickly, eyes widening.

"Because you're acting weird and I can smell your nervousness." Isaac told him, looking amused again. "And Derek was acting the same way when I seen him last night and asked him where he'd been."

"Yeah, well, Derek's always weird and, to be honest, so am I." Stiles played it off. "Anyways, what does Derek want?"

"He wants to know if you've found anything about what attacked that woman the other night."

Stiles sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "You can run along and tell Derek that I didn't find anything. Nothing about giant werewolves or were bears or anything, and I'm not wasting my time looking again. And if he still wants to kill me, then he can come and do that, but just remind him that he actually has to come near me to do that." Stiles added, still feeling annoyed that he had sent Isaac as a messenger.

Isaac held up his hands in surrender. "Hey, I'm just doing Derek a favour. Don't hate the messenger." Isaac said calmly. And then he turned away from Stiles. "So what are you doing here with Carrie, anyways? Are you two dating?" He asked the question casually but Stiles instinct told him there was more to it then that.

Stiles raised an eyebrow. "No, why? Are you interested?"

Stiles nearly laughed at the stunned expression on Isaac's face. His eyes were wide and his mouth kind of hung open a bit, like a cartoon that had been hit on the head.

"No." Isaac said firmly. "Why would I be? She's not really anything special, is she?"

"I've got my things." Carrie said in a small voice, standing beside the passenger door. She had clearly heard everything.

Isaac looked more than surprised, now. And a bit confused by the fact that she had snuck up on him.

"Carrie," he said in a small voice, like an animal that had just been punished. "I-,"

She blinked at him, not saying anything. Stiles didn't want to enjoy his misery, but he couldn't help but feel a laugh bubbling up inside him.

"We were just talking about you!" Stiles said happily. "Weren't we, Isaac?"

"Yes, I heard." Carrie said, her face an emotionless mask. "I'm ready to go if you are."

Isaac slipped out of the car and grimaced at Carrie's back as she climbed in.

"Wait," he said as Stiles put the jeep in gear. Stiles' hand froze on the gear shift and he and Carrie both waited for Isaac to say something. He looked like he was struggling.

"You know," Carrie spoke up. "It's just as easy to be nice to people as it is to be mean to them." And then she turned to stare out the front window while Isaac stood there with a look that contained confusion, embarrassment and something more, just under the surface.

"I'll try to remember that." he murmured before turning and walking off.

"If it makes you feel better, I don't think he meant it." Stiles said as they drove off.

Carrie turned to him and gave him a weak smile. "I know." She said calmly. "Some people are deeply sad, and they don't know how to deal with it. Some lash out, some bottle everything up and retreat into themself, and others pretend to be okay, even when they're not. Isaac happens to be the first kind, I think."

Stiles drove on, knowing which kind he was.

* * *

_**I hope this clears up some of the confusion after the kiss in the previous chapter. Thank you for reading and I hope you continue to do so! All of your reviews have been greatly appreciated, so thank y****ou guys. - C**  
_


	8. Questions

Chris Argent stood in the basement room of his home, a map set out before him. The map was covered with tiny little pins, each one indicating something different.

"It makes no sense." He muttered, staring down at it. "The footprints that were found led far away from the building where the woman was killed. Either he was trying to throw us off the scent, or he had no reason to be over there, which would make this case more than just a random attack." He paused, eyebrows coming together. "That would make it pre-emptive murder."

"Scott and the others have no idea what it is." Allison spoke up, looking confused.

Chris gave his daughter a cynical look. "They never do, do they? But somehow these things always end up knocking on their doors."

Allison couldn't deny that. "Are you going to go out looking for it again?" She couldn't help but ask.

Argent nodded. His fellow hunters stood behind him, none of them talking but all wearing the same unemotional masks that she'd come to expect before a big hunt.

"Don't you think you should wait until you know what it is?" She asked him.

Allison didn't know what she would do if her father ever died, too. Her mother passing had been hard enough on her. She'd turned into someone different, someone who, looking back, she was afraid of. She couldn't go through that ever again.

"That's my job, honey." Chris said calmly.

"You're right." Allison agreed, leaning up to give a quick, worried peck on the cheek. "Hunting is your job, but being my father is your responsibility."

* * *

"Are you sure you're ready to do this?" Officer Stilinski asked.

The three of them, Carrie, Stiles and Officer Stilinski, sat at the table in the dinning room. There was a tape recorder sitting beside a folder and a bunch of scattered papers.

Carrie took a deep breath. It had four days since her mother died. The wound was still fresh, aching painfully in her chest. But that, she had come to realize, wasn't going to go away. It was never going to fully go away. Even when she'd come to turns with her mothers death, or moved on and found a way to be happy again, it would always be there, in the background, throbbing as a reminder of what happened.

"It's not going to get any easier." She said, her voice unwavering despite the chaotic emotions running through her. "I might as well do this while I still remember as much as I can."

Stiles looked fairly interested in what she was going to say. His dad had asked him to leave but he'd persisted and Carrie had sighed and said she didn't mind if he stayed. Truth be told, the presence of both of them made the telling easier.

"It was probably around 9:30 and my mom still wasn't home. I ordered pizza, since I was hungry, and then someone rang the doorbell a few minutes later. I figured it was way too soon for the pizza to be there, so instead of hitting the buzzer to let them in, I looked out the window." That was the easy part, the beginning. It was the rest of it that stuck in her throat and made tears burn in her eyes.

"It was my mom." She said thickly. "She- she forgot her key. So I went to buzz her in and then I seen it, in the bushes."

"Seen it?" Stiles repeated anxiously. "Seen _what_?"

"Eyes. Red ones." She looked down. "I already talked about this part and everyone just thinks I'm crazy, but I swear to you that is what I seen."

"And then what happened?" Officer Stilinski asked, shooting his son a look that clearly told him to shut up.

"It- it moved. Out of the bushes. It was huge, the biggest animal I've ever seen. It was on it's hind legs, like a bear, but it was nearly the size of a car. And it- it moved so fast." She gulped in a breath and squeezed her hands into fists. This was it, the final hurdle and the story would officially be told. She'd never have to talk about it again if she didn't want to.

"I yelled to her, but it was too late. I heard her screams. They were horrible, the kind of screams that haunt you. And the beast- it made noises too, but they were- wrong. Deeply, deeply wrong. So I grabbed the baseball bat beside our door and I ran down stairs, thinking I could protect her. But when I got down there…" Tears streamed down her face now, dripping onto her shirt. Not single tears, not the kind that you can look pretty while crying. These tears were never ending, slicking her cheeks.

"It was too late. I didn't even get outside. I knew it, if I'm being honest with myself. She was dead already. And the thing, it looked at me and growled, almost territorial. And then I passed out." She concluded, wiping at her face. "That's all I can tell you. I know, it sounds insane. I _know_, but that's what I remember."

* * *

"She says it was as big as a car, Scott." Stiles said into the phone. He was clutching at it like a lifeline. "A _car_."

Scott took a deep breath, trying not to freak out as bad as Stiles. "Did you tell Derek this yet?"

"No, you can tell him." Stiles said instantly.

Scott frowned. "Why don't you?"

Stiles sighed. "Because, Scott." He rolled his eyes before continuing. "I'm not talking to him, okay?"

Scott was too confused and shocked to push the subject. "Okay, I'll talk to him, I guess."

"Good, because I don't know about you but I'm pretty freaked out about the part of it being _the size of a freaking car_." Stiles was working himself up now, his breathing getting ragged and shallow. "You know, I thought were done with all this extra weird supernatural bullshit when Jackson got his shit together and Gerard died, but it's like every time we finally get a break something new and possibly worse crawls out of whatever sewer this thing came from and fucks everything up!"

"Stiles," Scott's voice was extremely calm in comparison.

"What?"

"Calm down."

"Right, right." Stiles ran a hand through his short hair. "Calm. I'm calm. You're calm. We're all freaking calm."

"You good?" Scot asked.

Stiles took a few deep, even breaths. "I'm good."

"Okay, one of us needs to talk to Derek, and since you refuse to I guess that'll have to be me. And you need to stay with her, stay with Carrie." Scott ordered.

"What? Why?"

"Because," Scott said in a low, serious tone. "If it finds out that she seen enough to give a description, it might decide that she's better off dead."

"Okay, protect innocent girl from a car-sized bear wolf thing." Stiles summarized. "You know, sometimes being your friend really sucks."

"Why don't you two try talking to Deaton and see what he says? But do not let her out of your sight, Stiles. Call me if anything happens." Scott said before hanging up the phone.

Stiles put his phone in his pocket and went to knock on the door of the guest bedroom. When no one answered, Scott's words flashed in his head.

_It might decide she's better off dead._

Stiles pushed open the door as fast as he could. He expected blood to be covering the walls, a dead, ripped apart carcass on the floor.

Instead, what he found was bad, just in a different way.

Carrie was sitting on the floor beside the bed, knees pulled up to her chest, crying.

"Stiles," she blurted when she noticed him. She stood up and wiped fiercely at her face. "Sorry, I-,"

"Don't apologize." He said quickly.

He felt awkward and utterly useless. He had barely any experience dealing with crying girls. And this one he could actually relate to.

"You probably think I'm an emotional basket case." She guessed, hugging her arms around her middle. "I'm not… I'm not usually like this. I'm just-," she took a shaky breath. "I'm just not dealing well, I guess."

Stiles jammed his hands in his pockets. "I know what you mean." He told her. "I- when my mom died, I didn't deal with it well either." He said, surprising himself. He didn't talk about his mother's death much, especially not with people he didn't know that well. But for some reason he couldn't seem to stop himself.

"For the longest time I would wake up every morning and for just a few minutes, I would forget. I would just completely forget that she wasn't going to be downstairs, making me breakfast or arguing with my dad about something stupid or singing along to some annoying song that hasn't been popular in a decade." He looked at the ground. "It was like reliving it every day, that shock and knowledge that she isn't there anymore."

Carrie's eyes filled with concern and she took a step towards him. One arm stretched out towards him, as if to put a comforting hand on his shoulder, but she seemed to think the better of it and let it hang awkwardly at her side.

"I'm sorry." She said, her words ringing with sincerity.

Stiles smiled weakly. "Don't be. I'm just trying to say that, well, it gets better. It gets more bearable."

"Thank you."

"Anyways, I came in here to ask you if you wanted to get out of here." he said, the moment of opening up gone. "I need to talk to Scott's boss about something. He's a veterinarian and I need to ask him a few things, so I thought maybe you'd want to come."

* * *

"Deaton!" Stiles called as he entered the building.

"We're in the back." Deaton's voice carried from the other room.

"We?" He wondered out loud, going in the direction the voice had come from.

He was about to open the door when Carrie grabbed his arm. "They're not operating or anything back there, are they?" She asked, looking deeply troubled. "I mean, there's not going to a- a cut open dog or anything, right?"

"It's okay," Deaton called through the door. "You and your female friend can come in, Stilinski. I was just giving a shot."

Stiles shrugged and opened the door, Carrie following behind him.

"Isaac!" They both exclaimed, varying from confusion from Stiles and surprise from Carrie.

Isaac looked at them both with a rather sheepish expression. "I should probably go."

"Nonsense." Deaton told him. "You're still needed here today." He turned to the two newcomers. "Isaac helps me with the animals once in a while. He's really got the healing touch."

"That's great." Stiles said, giving Isaac a look. "But I actually needed to talk to you about something important."

"We'll take this in the other room, then." Deaton said, pulling off his gloves. "I'll be back." He added to Isaac.

"I've been expecting this, you know." Deaton commented as he shut the door to his office behind them. "After Derek came to speak to me I was sure you'd be here not long after."

Stiles' mind suddenly went blank and he stared at Deaton. "What are you talking about?"

Deaton frowned. "Are you not here to ask me about the connection that formed two nights ago between Derek and yourself?"

Stiles jerkily shook his head. "I came to ask you about the thing that killed that woman the other night, but, I mean, if you know something…"

Deaton smiled a knowing smile. "That's something I think I'll leave for you and Derek to discuss."

Stiles felt frustrated for a second. Deaton was the one who brought it up in the first place! He had actually forgotten for a bit, the whole thing that had happened between he and Derek.

"Okay, then about the killing-,"

"Can I ask you a question of my own?" Deaton wondered politely. "How long have you known Mrs. Pern?"

This was not going as planned and Stiles found himself getting more questions than answers. "We went to school for a while together, I think."

"Interesting." Deaton mused, staring off I the distance.

"Why?" Stiles demanded. "What is she?"

"Oh, she's very much human, just like you." Deaton said in a cool tone. "Just a type of human that I haven't encountered since-, well, that's better left kept to myself."

"What does that mean?"

"That question will answer itself eventually, Mr. Stilinski. Now," he turned to the cages behind him, bending down the examine the dog within. "About the thing that killed that woman the other night. I can't help you, Stiles. I'm just as baffled as you are. We need more to identify it. So far all we have is the description from a terrified teenage human who just witnessed her mothers murder."

"So then what do we do?" Stiles asked, feeling defeated.

"It means," Deaton drew out the sentence. "That we're in the dark, for the time being."

* * *

"Can I pet him?" Carrie asked, watching the small dog sitting on the table in the middle of the room. He stared up at her, his eyes filled with curiosity.

"Sure," Isaac told her. "Sam's friendly enough."

Carrie smiled and reached out a cautious hand and gently pet the soft dog. He tilted his head so she could scratch him under the ear.

"I always wanted a dog." She explained. "But my mom- she hated animals. They always seemed to like me, though."

That was an understatement. Sam had rolled on his back and closed his eyes, waiting for Carrie to rub his stomach, his little tongue hanging out the side of his mouth.

"My dad was the same way." Isaac told her, reaching out to scratch Sam's chin. "We had a dog when I was younger but after my brother-," he stopped himself. "We got rid of him."

Carrie nodded in understanding.

"About yesterday," Isaac said slowly. He had been replying the scene in his mind over and over again, and every time he did he had felt more and more guilty. He was annoyed at himself. First, for saying those things in the first place, but also about feeling guilty for it. He shouldn't care. He hardly knew this girl and if she thought he was a jerk, then who cares?

"I see you've taken a liking to Sam." Deaton commented from behind them. "Or, more correctly, he's taken a liking to you."

Carrie looked up at him, the first genuinely happy look on her face since her mother died. "He's adorable."

"He's here all week. His owners are on an extended vacation and we provide animal boarding here." He walked around the table and Sam stood at attention, as if he had been commanded. "You're welcome to come back and visit him any time."

As he spoke the words his eyes trailed to Isaac, who was staring at him with wide eyes.

"I actually have the day off tomorrow but Isaac offered to take care of the practice for me. I'm sure he would love the help."

Stiles, standing in the corner of the room, covered his mouth to hide a laugh. Was Deaton actually trying to play match maker? From the look of confused surprise on Isaac's face, he would bet that Isaac had no previous knowledge of what Deaton was talking about.

"Maybe I will." Carrie agreed, giving Sam one last scratch.

* * *

**Thank you everyone who has sent in reviews, and thank you for reading! :3 You guys are all lovely. -C**

**P.s. I apologize for any spelling errors. It was pretty late when I was writing this and so my mind might have missed a few.**


	9. Clinical

"_It should have been you." His dad said. His eyes weren't filled with rage, his hand wasn't raised to deliver a blow. No, he was completely in control of himself for once. "Your bother's dead, but every time I look at your face I think, 'It should have been Isaac.'"_

Isaac slowly came too, clutching at the blanket. There was rips and tears all through it from his claws.

It was always that memory that haunted him. Not the hundreds of times his father had hit him, or thrown something at him. Not the time when he had thrown a pot of boiling water on his arm. Not the times that he had locked him up, caged him like a disobedient animal.

It was this one memory, where he hadn't even laid a hand on Isaac. He hadn't even been angry. In fact, he had been crying. There were tears in his eyes and his face had been buried in his hands.

His nails went through the mattress this time and he had to stop thinking for a second and regain control. It always hardest to do after that. After that memories, or that nightmare, whatever it was. Because most of the time, the thing he used as an anchor was his love for his family. Even the man who grew to hate him, because at one time things were different.

But it wasn't working. The room was red and his claws wouldn't retract.

Memories surfaced, ones that he always clung to: Camping with the whole family, before his mom died. Watching his brother's first big basketball game. His dad teaching him how to play lacrosse in their backyard.

Farther back, his mom tucking him in. His dad carrying him into bed after staying up late and watching a movie with him. Camden waking him up at five in the morning to open presents on Christmas morning.

Nothing was working.

And finally, a face slashed in his mind. Blonde hair, wide blue eyes. Scared, in the hallway at school. Hurt and disappointed, standing outside Stiles' jeep. Smiling and awed, petting the dog at Deaton's clinic.

The room stopped glowing red and he felt himself regain control.

"I will not be like Scott." He muttered, jumping out of bed.

Sure, Scott was a good guy. He was kind and caring but at the end of the day, being that kind and caring was a downfall. It was a weakness. Because when you cared about people the way that Scott cared about Allison, that person has control over you. Completely and utterly. He wouldn't let Carrie become that to him.

After his dad died, Isaac swore that he would never let someone have emotional control him again.

* * *

"I'm worried." Allison murmured into Scott's chest. "They didn't come home last night. They went out hunting for that thing, and they're not back."

Scott brushed away the dark hair that fell on her shoulder. "They're fine." He assured her, pressing a kiss to the shoulder.

"You can't know that." Allison said quietly, pulling away from him.

Scott smiled. "Actually, I can. I followed their scent on my way over here. I figured you'd be worried. They're fine. Just on the outskirts of town. I think they were following a trail, but I couldn't smell anything. Just them."

Allison smiled at him, grateful. "Sometimes you're the most wonderful boyfriend, you know that?"

"Only sometimes?"

She laughed. "Don't push it."

* * *

"So you just agreed to run the entire practice for the day?" Erica asked, looking sceptical. "Okay, PETA, I know that you've got this new 'saving the animals' thing going on, but seriously?"

Isaac shrugged, hanging his leather jacket on the coat rack by the door. "I didn't exactly have a choice."

"You always have a choice."

Erica cocked her head to the side and examined him. "There's something more to is, isn't there? He could have asked Scott but instead he asked you."

Isaac ignored her, flipping the closed sign on the door so it said open instead.

"So, what is it? You know I'm going to find out eventually." She told him, grinning.

"What are you even here for?" Isaac asked her.

"I was bored and curious." Erica admitted.

"You know what they say," Isaac joked, an amused grin spreading on his face. "Curiosity killed the cat."

"Well, it's a good thing I turn into a -,"

The door to the clinic opened and Erica trailed off. "I know you." She commented, frowning at the boy who walked in, a medium sized dog trailing at his heels.

"We met the other day outside of Beacon Hills High, didn't we?" He asked, giving her a flirtatious grin.

"Josh, right?" She remembered, putting a name to that pretty face and curly head of hair. Just as she remembered, the scent hit her again. That blood tinged scent of danger. She thought that maybe it was just a one time thing, but it clung to him.

Isaac, beside her, seemed to pick up on it too. He stiffened, his eyebrows creasing together.

"Can I help you?" Isaac asked, his words lacking any warmth.

"Oh, uh, yeah." Josh said, pointing at his dog. "I made an appointment to get him his shots. I just got him the other day, and he's missing a few important ones."

Isaac checked the date book and the nodded. "Okay, well, I'll take him in and we should have him done in about an hour." Isaac said formally, stretching out a hand to take the leash.

The dog stared obediently up at Isaac, moving away from Josh to stand closer to him. Josh and Isaac locked eyes for a second and Isaac felt something like recognition flow through him, but he knew that he'd never met him before. But the way that he didn't look away, or the fact that his heartbeat didn't pick up, even in the slightest, made him think of someone but he couldn't figure out who it was.

"Take good care of him." Josh said after a moment, releasing the leash. He tossed a quick smile over his shoulder at Erica before pushing back out the door.

"Something's wrong with that guy." Isaac murmured, watching the door Josh had just walked out of.

"Well, it's definitely not his face, if you know what I mean." Erica commented. Suddenly her head jerked up and she froze, listening. "Someone else is outside. That car sounds familiar, though." She paused. "Is that Stiles' jeep?"

Isaac quickly pulled Josh's dog into the next room. Erica followed him.

"Does he not know that Scott doesn't work today?" She wondered allowed.

"I already talked to you dad. He said he'd come pick me up in two hours when he's off work." Carrie was saying to Stiles, still outside. Isaac could hear them clearly and he knew that Erica could too.

"Oh my god. That's what this is about?" She asked before laughing.

"I didn't invite her." Isaac said, narrowing his eyes in annoyance.

"No, but you knew she would be here and, oh, look, you're here to! That's completely coincidental." Erica teased.

The front door opened and Stiles and Carrie walked in. Someone, most likely Stiles' banged loudly on the front desk.

Isaac lifted the dog onto the table and unhooked the leash before going to the notepad that Deaton had written instructions for the day on. The dog needed three shots, nothing serious. He technically wasn't trained to do anything too serious, such as surgeries or putting animals under, but he was allowed to do the basics. If anything serious came in, there was a number listed to call Deaton.

Erica realized that he wasn't going to go talk to the two in the front room and slipped out the door to do it herself.

"Stiles." She said, a wicked grin finding it's way to her lips. She leaned her elbows on the counter and Stiles made a point of not looking anywhere he shouldn't. "Can you give me a ride somewhere?"

"I'm not a taxi service." He replied, tilting his head upwards.

"No, but you should seriously consider it." Erica mused.

Stiles rolled his eyes. "I'll see you later." He added to Carrie before leaving.

Erica watched Carrie for a few seconds. The other girl didn't seem to know what to do with herself. She stood there in the middle of the room, arms awkwardly swaying at her sides.

"Isaac's in the back room." Erica said finally. "I'm going to go catch up with Stiles before he leaves without giving me a ride."

"Right." Carrie murmured, taking a step towards the back room and then stopping and taking one backwards. "Goodbye."

Erica held in her laughter as she swung her legs over the front desk and jumped down. She wasn't sure who she found more amusing, Isaac and his denial or Carrie and her awkward confusion.

Maybe it was a tie.

* * *

Carrie raised her hand to knock on the door of the room where Isaac was. She hesitated, though. What was she even doing here? She felt awkward and stupid and, to be honest, she still on the fence about Isaac. She wasn't exactly sure whether she liked him or if he terrified her.

The door in front of her opened and she jumped back, heart beating quickly in her chest. Isaac stood there, eyebrows raised, not saying anything. The way his eyes stared into hers made her feel like she was being scrutinized.

"I don't know what I'm doing here!" She blurted. It was like the opening of a floodgate and everything poured out after that. "I wasn't going to come but then I realized if I didn't I would just spend the day sitting in the guest bedroom at the Stilinski house, which is weird enough, but I'd also just be feeling sorry for myself and I'd probably end up crying or something and I can't cry anymore, I just _can't,_ and, truth be told, I just really like animals so I came and…." She stopped herself, taking a deep breath.

Isaac's stoic face broke into a grin and he chuckled. "Well, at least you're honest."

Carrie grimaced at him, cheeks burning. "So, um… if there's anything I can do to help…"

"The back room," he pointed in the direction of a hallway just to the right of the front desk. "That's where we board the animals. There's food bags in there and a sink if you want to feed them and give them water."

Her face brightened. "Great."

She disappeared quickly and Isaac just shook his head, amused.

Josh's dog was waiting for him, still sitting in the exact spot he had been left. Isaac went to the medicine cabinet and grabbed the things he needed. He filled a syringe with the proper things and then put a gentle hand on the dog.

"I need you to sit still, okay buddy?" He said calmly. He'd learned in the time he'd spent at the clinic that if you stayed calm, the animals tended to do the same.

Isaac could hear Carrie bustling around in the backroom and cooing at the dogs. "You're handsome, aren't you?" She was saying. "You're just a pretty, pretty puppy."

He laughed out loud and the dog looked up at him, almost as if he was confused. He wouldn't doubt it, actually. Animals were much smarter than people gave them credit for, he'd learned. And, most of the time, better than most people. Dogs didn't hurt each other for fun, or kill each other for no reason.

Forty minutes later the front door opened once again. "I'll be done in a minute." Isaac called, catching Josh's scent.

"Hey, don't I know you?" Josh asked and Isaac frowned. He could have sworn Carrie was still in the back room.

"I don't think so." She answered.

Isaac helped the dog off the table and reattached the leash.

"Wait, you're the girls who mom was killed by that thing the other day, aren't you?" Josh pushed.

Isaac was at the door quicker than what should have been possible. The dog followed behind, jumping at his heels with excitement, sensing Isaac's heightened emotions but interpreting them as something good.

"It was a bear, right? That's what the papers are saying. They don't get many bear attacks here though, do they? Was it something else? You were there, weren't you? You saw what it did. What it looked like."

"I don't really think it's any of your business." Carrie told him, being more sharp then she was used to. The questions and the blunt way they were asked had thrown her, though.

Isaac stepped from the back room and she could sense anger rolling off him. It was almost tangible, something she could reach out and grab. And so she did, her hand gently circling Isaac's wrist.

His features smoothed and the anger seemed so slip away as he handed the leash to the boy standing in front of the counter.

Josh nodded. "Thanks. And it was good talking to you, Carrie."

"I don't like that guy." Isaac said instantly once he was gone.

"Neither do I." Carrie agreed, left with the wondering question of how he knew her name or the story about her mother. The papers hadn't put her name or picture in the article. Sherriff Stilinski had been sure of that.

* * *

Carrie left not long after the scene with Josh. Just like she'd said to Stiles, Sherriff Stilinski had come to pick her up.

It was starting to get dark and Isaac fed and watered the animals again before shutting down most of the lights in the building. He only had fifteen minutes left until closing time.

He was just finishing cleaning the room where he'd given the dogs the shots when, for the tenth time that day, the front door chimed. He walked to the front room and froze, mid step.

"I need help." Chris Argent said weakly. He was clutching at a wound on his stomach. His shirt was drenched through with blood and it covered both his arms. His skin was pale white and sickly looking.

"What happened?" Isaac demanded, running to his side. He put a hand on the man's shoulder. Despite their differences and the animosity that was usually between them, Isaac knew that if he didn't help him the man would faint.

"It was-," his eyes rolled into the back of his head and Chris collapsed in Isaac's arms.

* * *

**Thank you everyone for reviewing, especially those of you who have faithfully reviewed a couple chapter *you know who you are and I adore and appreciate you for it*. - C**


	10. Skin

Isaac's heart was rapidly beating in his chest as he picked up Chris Argent in his arms and carried him into the operating room. He gave the wounds a quick once over and then grabbed the pad where Deaton's number was.

He couldn't dial the numbers on his cell phone fast enough. It was like his fingers had turned into giant stubs and every time he tried to hit one number, he'd hit another. Finally, after what felt like hours, he pressed the call button.

"Come on!" He shouted, frustrated. The phone rang on but no one picked up. Isaac ran a hand over his face. "I can't deal with this. Damn it!"

"Is everything alright, Isaac?" Deaton asked, picking up the phone.

Isaac let out a sigh of relief. "No, everything is not alright." he said, walking over to the table where Chris lay, still unconscious. "Chris Argent is here and-,"

"Is he threatening you or is he hurt?"

"He's hurt." Isaac said, eyes on the blood stained and torn apart shirt that clung to his body. "Badly. He's not conscious. There's blood everything. I - I don't know what to do." He admitted.

Sure, he and the Argents didn't exactly get along, to say the least, but he didn't want Chris to die. Out of all his family he actually seemed the most normal and, to be honest, he knew it would break Allison's heart if anything happened to him which would, in turn, break Scott's heart. He needed to live.

"I'll be there in two minutes. Get the shirt off and rinse the wounds while you wait. Do not put anything on them, Isaac. Only water. If you find anything that could be evidence, such as a broken nail or a tuft of fur or anything like that, keep it."

Isaac stared at the phone, the words call ended running across the screen. Okay. Get the shirt off, clean the wound.

Get the shirt off.

Without stopping to get a knife of scissors, Isaac extended his claws and ripped the rest of the shirt so it fell apart at the middle, opening up like a blazer. He spread it as wide as he could and stared down at the wounds, mouth gaping open.

He was going to die. There was no doubt in Isaac's mind at that very moment that Chris Argent was not going to live. He couldn't. It would be impossible.

It was as if someone had played tic-tac-toe on his chest. There were deep, horizontal lines and equally deep vertical ones, running over each other to form square after square or torn up flesh. What flesh wasn't ripped to pieces was a sickly purple colour, as if the blood in his body was rushing to the surface.

Isaac sucked in a breath. He was a werewolf. He was strong and tough and dealing with a dying hunter was not really a big deal, he told himself. He closed his eyes briefly and centered himself, then grabbed a soft cloth and wet it.

He gently wiped at the skin on his chest first, trying not to disturb the skin. He tried not to think of the fact that it probably flapped up like a piece of paper in a book when he moved the cloth over it. The thought disgusted him too much.

The cloth started turning red and he lifted it to wash it off and start fresh when he realized what was happening. Where ever he rubbed with the cloth was now devoid of skin. It was all tissue and muscle and blood and bone.

Isaac jerked back and rushed to the garbage, spewing everything he ate that day inside of it.

"What happened?" Deaton asked in a cool voice, appearing behind Isaac.

Isaac wiped at his mouth. "I didn't- I was just trying to clean it and it just- it just came off." He said, at a loss for a better explanation. "It just peeled off."

Deaton approached the table and gently prodded the wounds with a glove covered hand. "Hmm." he murmured. "See where the blood rises to the skin here?" he asked. "It's almost as if he was poisoned by something."

Isaac didn't want to look again but he did anyways. "What does it mean?"

Deaton shook his head. "I need you to do something for me, Isaac. I can't heal him without knowing what did this. I need to heal the poison before attending the wounds or we won't get anywhere. Not anywhere good, anyways."

Isaac frowned and then realized what he meant. Without hesitated he places his hand on Chris's arm. He couldn't heal people. He couldn't save their lives with his touch. But he could ease the pain, and right now the pain was what was keeping Chris unconscious.

It hurt, for a brief moment. Nothing compared to how Chris must have been feeling, more like a sharp pain running up his arm and finding its way to his chest, where it throbbed for a second before disappearing.

Chris' eyes flew open and he grabbed Isaac's wrist in a tight grip that he shouldn't have been able to manage. Isaac pulled back, trying to be firm but also trying not to jostle Chris' body too much.

"What did this?" Deaton asked as soon as his eyes flitted away from Isaac.

Chris shook his head, his eyes going out of focus. "It was human." he said quietly. "That's all I know. It had to be something more, but it wasn't changed. It didn't even use it's claws."

Deaton frowned at him. "That can't be possible." He said calmly. "The wounds are too sever to be done by anything else-,"

"It was _human_." Chris ground out. He was sweating badly and his face was still white as a sheet, only now there were too fever spots on his cheeks.

"Then what caused the poisoning?" Deaton wondered. "These aren't normal wounds."

With much effort, Chris managed to move his arm and dig something out of his pocket. What he produced was small, the size of a birdie that you would use for badminton and similar looking. The tip, though, was pointed and sharp, like a needle.

"A tranquilizer bullet." Isaac commented, realizing what it was.

"So it seems." Deaton murmured to himself. "Only there's nothing tranquil about what's in it."

* * *

Derek rummaged around in what used to be the living room of his families home. There was things he'd collected over time, things that had lived through the fire. But, just like his family members, there weren't many of them.

What he had mostly found, though, was books. The room that the fire had only just grazed was his father's office. It had burned, yes, but nearly everything he had found was from that room.

Right now he was looking for something specific. A book on werewolves. There were so many of them, but he needed one to answer questions that he hadn't wanted to ask Deaton, and that Deaton probably wouldn't have answered, that vague, weird man.

He flipped through the third one, reading over the index when he spotted the word he was looking for: _Bonds_.

He skipped through to the correct page and began reading.

_A werewolf, whether he be bitten or born, forms different types of bonds. These bonds are directly connected to the animal instinct inside of you and therefore they are usually made without you even noticing. All bonds can be broken, though some only in death._

The first type of bond was the bond of the alpha. There were two types of alpha bonds, one being the bond of an alpha that you chose, another being the bond of the alpha that bites you. If the alpha that bites you is still alive, you have no choice but to follow him. Until he is dead, he is your alpha.

The bond of an alpha that you chose, though, is different. As long as you chose to follow them, they have a certain amount of control over you. That bond can be broken by becoming an omega or by becoming an alpha yourself.

The second type of bond was the one he was looking for.

_**Attractions:**_

_Not to be confused with the bond of a mate, an attraction bond is more spiritual than physical and is not nearly as strong as the bond of a mate. An attraction bond is formed when two people (at least one of them a lycanthrope) are mentally compatible. The animal inside realizes the potential mate and the two become drawn together, seemingly against there will._

_For an attraction bond to be formed there does not necessarily need to be any previous feelings of kinship or attraction between the two. Usually they are formed at first sight, but on occasion an attraction bond can be formed between two friends, or two acquaintances, over time. _

_An attraction bond can easily be made and can easily be broken, if the right actions are taken. Three ways to break an attraction bond are: Distance, creating an attraction bond with someone else, or death of one of the parties involved. _

Derek raised his eyebrows. Distance wasn't an option, not really. He knew neither of them could leave Beacon Hills. That left only the other two options.

Either he had to find a different potential mate, or he had to kill Stiles. To be honest, after what happened the other night because of the attraction bond, he would rather just kill him.


	11. Run

Allison giggled and pushed Scott away from her, fishing her phone out of her pocket. An unfamiliar number flashed across the screen and she frowned.

"Hello?"

"Allison, it's Deaton. From the vet clinic."

"Oh," she said, pocking Scott's arm to get his attention. "Scott's right here, do you want me to put him on?"

"I'm actually calling to speak to you." He said in his calm tone.

Despite the way he said it, Allison felt her heart drop into her stomach. "What- what is it?"

"I have your father here." He said slowly. "And he keeps ordering me to call you. I would just like to assure you that your father was in my care and not to worry, he'll be fine. He's going to be a little late coming home, though. I did my best to mend him up and he's on his way to the hospital as we speak."

Allison grabbed Scott's leg, digging her nails into the skin there without even meaning to. "What happened?" She asked softly.

"A slight inconvenience with the hunt. As I said, he was in my care and I did my best to mend him up. Your father will be fine. A few scars, at most."

"Thank you." She said in a choked voice. She hung up the phone and blinked back tears. "Can you drive me to the hospital, please?" She asked Scott.

He smoothed back her hair and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. "Of course."

* * *

"I'm fine, honey." Chris assured his daughter. He tried to put an arm around her but the bandages covering his chest made it difficult.

Allison wiped tears from her cheeks and shook her head. "My definition of fine doesn't include being wrapped up like a Christmas present in a hospital bed."

"I'm alive, right?" He asked her.

She nodded.

"And I didn't get bitten?"

"No."

"And I'll be out of here in a week, so it's not that bad."

"The doctor said two weeks minimum." Allison corrected.

"A week." Chris said firmly. "And until then I'll call someone and get them to come stay with you."

Crisis averted, Allison felt their father daughter relationship slip back into pace. "No way." She said, crossing her arms over her chest. "Scott can-,"

"I am not letting my teenage daughter spend a week alone with her teenage boyfriend." Chris practically growled. "No."

"Then I'll stay with Lydia." Allison said defiantly.

Chris hesitated, trying to think up a better solution but he couldn't find one that she wouldn't protest to. He could always order a few men to watch the house, just to be safe.

"Fine."

Allison smiled and kissed his cheek. "I love you."

* * *

"Do you want a ride?" Sherriff Stilinski asked, forking a bite of eggs into his mouth.

Carrie shook her head quickly. "No, I'm fine. You guys have done enough for me. I can walk across town."

Sherriff Stilinski put down his fork. "Carrie, you've been here for a week now and it feels like you're walking on eggshells, afraid of doing something wrong and getting kicked out." Carrie opened her mouth to protest but he raised his hand to stop her. "But that's not going to happen. You can stay here as long as you like. Heck, we're not even doing you a favour anymore. The house hasn't been this clean in- in a long time. And I can't remember the last time a home cooked meal was made in this place."

Without thinking, Carrie jumped up and hugged him. He stiffened, like a person who wasn't used to that kind of contact.

"Thank you." She said quickly. "Really." She released him and he coughed awkwardly and then smiled. "But I really don't need a ride. I'm fine to walk."

Sherriff Stilinski nodded. "Well, if you need anything you know how to get a hold of me."

"Dial 911?"

He chuckled and nodded.

* * *

"But why wouldn't it change?" Stiles asked, frowning. "I mean, it was definitely _not_ just a human, right? But why would it risk getting killed when it could have just changed?"

Scott ran a hand through his hair. "I don't _know_." He said, his voice cracking with stress. "I've been wondering that all day since I spoke to Deaton. It had to be something, no human would just attack someone like that. Plus, Deaton says that Allison's dad had four people on that hunting party with him. Chris was the only one to make it."

Stiles let out a breath. "What if it's hiding its identity?"

"Wouldn't he do the exact opposite if that's what he's trying to do? Allison's dad knows what he looks like now and he's not going to forget that any time soon." Scott pointed out.

"Yeah, I know, but what if he's not trying to hide his _human_ identity. What if he's trying to hide what he is?" Stiles mused. "It makes sense, doesn't it? Whatever this thing is, it took out an entire hunting party without even changing. It's smart and it's strong, and it has the advantage because none of us even know what it is."

"As long as we have no idea what it is, we can't figure out how to kill it…"

"Exactly!" Stiles exclaimed. "The only person who even caught what it looks like is Carrie, and she has no idea what's even going on."

"Okay, Allison's exiting the hospital right now I have to go, but I just thought I'd tell you that. I guess I'll pass the information on to Derek myself or are you talking to him yet?"

Stiles hung up without giving an answer and Scott stared at the phone, torn between annoyance and amusement.

"Carrie made breakfast." Stiles' dad commented when he got downstairs.

Stiles grabbed a plate, sat down and started eating before realizing. "Where is she?"

The Sherriff picked up his plate and put it in the sink. "She's actually gone out job hunting."

"Job hunting." Stiles repeated, his eyes widening. "Wait, she already left?"

"Uh, yeah?" Sherriff Stilinski gave his son a weird look. "Why?"

"No reason." Stiles said quickly. "I just needed to ask her something. So I'm going to go do that. Right now. Somehow." He ran out the door, leaving his dad to shake his head in confusion.

* * *

Carrie walked back to the Stilinski house feeling much less cheerful then when she'd left it. She'd had absolutely no luck with the job hunt.

She wanted a way to pay back Sherriff Stilinski for letting her stay with him, and she didn't feel right living at his house for free. She wanted to contribute, whether it be food or rent or both. So she needed a job. Sadly, the only places in town that she could find that were hiring required at least a bit of previous experience, which she didn't have.

Even the weather had turned sour. It had been nice and sunny when she'd left, not too warm, not too cool. Now the temperature had risen, but not in a good way. The heat stuck to her, like a damp blanket, and the blue of the sky had been replaced by grey clouds.

"_Carrie,_" someone whispered and Carrie turned, heart catching in her throat.

The word had been said so quietly that the person _had_ to be right behind her. But there was no one there. Actually, there was no one on the street. She was alone, surrounded by empty houses. There wasn't a car in any driveway, a light on in any house.

Panic started to ride in her and she picked up her pace, walking as quickly as she could without breaking into a run.

_Maybe you're just imaging things_, she told herself. It was probably juts the wind, wiping in her ears and she mistook it for an actual word. That could happen. That was possible.

She was passing by a house with a gate that led to a backyard when suddenly the gate flew open, swinging impossibly fast on its hinges. The wind wasn't strong enough to do that.

The instinct to run hit her hard and she was off, running as quickly as she could, even before the sound of footsteps slapping on the pavement behind her filled her ears.

Her legs ached but she kept running, turning down an unfamiliar street. It was a mistake. The street had only two houses on it and then it opened up into forest.

_Don't go in the forest alone, _Sherriff Stilinski had ordered her only days ago. The words echoed in her mind and she hesitated, slowing down her pace just long enough to register that what had earlier been the sound of shoes hitting pavement had now turned to a softer sort of thud. Like an animal.

She broke the tree line, dodging twigs and branches as well as she could. Her feet seemed to find every uneven piece of ground and she tripped constantly. Her hands were bleeding from every branch she clung to to keep herself upright and what felt like hundreds of tiny gashes opened up on her arms.

She was ducking under a tree that had fallen sideways, probably from the thunderstorm they'd had not long ago, when someone knocked into her side.

She went sprawling onto the soft, damp ground of the woods, her arm bending at an uncomfortable angle. Her head throbbed with lack of oxygen and her body ached all over, but she pounded as hard as she could on her attacker with her fists and used the last of her energy to kick out as hard as she could.

"Stop, Carrie!" A harsh voice urged.

She looked up, blinking, into familiar blue eyes. Isaac held a finger over his mouth to signal for her to be quiet and he raised his head.

He seemed to actually sniff the air before cocking his head to the side, listening intently to something to their right.

"We're okay." he muttered, pushing himself up.

There was a loud whirring sound and Isaac turned, just in time for a small green tranquilizer bullet to hit him in the chest.


	12. Beast

Some things are not possible. They just _aren't_. And if they are, well, good luck convincing your brain that, because it will do every single thing possible to deny the truth, to save itself the terror of admitting something that shouldn't be.

At least, that's what Carrie's brain was doing right now.

That was _Isaac_, her mind was screaming. That thing, crouched on the ground with yellow eyes and long canines, with tufts of hair spurting everywhere. That was Isaac. It _had_ to be. It was crouching right where Isaac had just been standing. It was wearing his clothes, for gods sake. But no, it couldn't be him. It couldn't.

Carrie scrambled up off the ground and backed away slowly, trying not to draw its attention. Whatever she had been running from was now a distant memory, buried at the back of her mind and really _not important_ right now.

She stepped on a twig and it snapped, somehow that little sound reverberating through the entire surrounding woods. The beast turned to her, and she froze.

She could see him, in the eyes. The shape had changed but that was still very much Isaac. Hidden, but there nonetheless, watching her back away from him in terror.

And then it opened its mouth and she prepared a scream, but instead of lunging at her, it spoke.

"_**Run**_!" He ordered, and she did.

She didn't make it far enough fast enough, though, and she turned when a familiar sound reached her ears. The sound of the thing that killed her mother. She figured that even when she was old and dying, she would remember that sound just as clearly as she did now.

Isaac stood his ground as the thing approached him, looking just as terrifying and large as the last time Carrie had seen it. Glowing red eyes, sharp teeth, size of a small car. But, she realized, she had gotten something wrong. That was not a bear. Definitely _not_ a bear.

It took another step towards Isaac and Isaac jumped, leaping through the air at an incredible speed. It didn't matter, though. The beast lifted one clawed paw and Carrie screamed as the sharp nails sliced through his stomach, ripping all the way through to the back of his leather jacket. Then it threw him, and Isaac soared through the air once again, this time his back hitting the base of a large tree.

Two dominant instincts ran through her at that moment: Run and save yourself, or run back and save him.

She was at his side in seconds, her hands pressing his shirt against the wound at his middle, trying to stop the blood. "Okay," she said in a panicked voice. "Isaac, can you hear me?"

He blinked, his eyes flickering between yellow and blue. "You should have kept going." He ground out before his eyelids drooped closed.

There was so much blood. It coated her hands and stained the front of her shirt, She tried to push her hair out of the way so she could see better and her blonde locks dripped with it as well. She wanted to cry and scream and run and hide but if she did Isaac was going to _die_.

She kept trying to apply pressure to the wound but his shirt was nearly in shreds. Trying not to think about what she was doing, she started to tug at the bottom of her t-shirt. It wasn't ripped or bloodied and it would work a hell of a lot better than what she was using now.

She was about to pull it over her head when she felt warm, wet breath on her neck. Every hair on her body seemed to stand on end, like she was electrocuted.

She turned her head around, entire body shaking, and came face to face with the large head of the beast. Its canines were dripping wet and its eyes were more terrifying up close. It smelled like death. Like the rotting, decaying body of the racoon she'd found once when walking through the woods, only worse.

It moved forward and she twisted her body so her front was facing the beast, her arms stretched out behind her, protectively covering Isaac's body.

As it leaned in, its eyes seemed to turn black. Its jaw spread open just enough that it could wrap around her neck and bite through it with one hard, easy chomp. But it didn't. Instead, it froze and sniffed her, pressing its wet nose against her collarbone. A whimper escaped her mouth and she closed her eyes, willing it to just _end_.

And then it did, just not the way Carrie expected. Just as quickly as it appeared behind her, the beast ran off, disappearing behind the hundreds of trees surrounding her.

She let out a shaky breath and turned, trying to calm herself down enough to help Isaac. Panic later, save his life now, she told herself. She'd have plenty of time to freak out over what just happened when they locked her up in an insane asylum.

* * *

"Let me get this straight," Derek started, his voice low and angry. "You screwed up and sent my pack member out there to fix your mess for you. Oh, and now neither of us can get hold of him."

Stiles' hands clenched the stealing wheel, his knuckles turning white. "Just shut up and keep looking for them."

Derek looked like he was going to argue but thought the better of it. Instead, he tiled his head so he could smell out the window better as Stiles drove through the streets of Beacon Hills.

"Stop," Derek ordered, catching something.

Stiles pulled the jeep to a screeching halt and waited for Derek to exit the vehicle or do _something_. Instead, he just sat there, his eyebrows forming a crease.

"What?" Stiles demanded after a few moment of impatiently waiting.

Derek punched the steering dashboard hard. "I can sense them but I can't tell from_ where._""Woah, okay," Stiles put a hand on Derek's arm to stop him from demolishing his car but Derek jerked his head around to stare at him.

Just like in the bedroom, the world seemed to tilt, pushing them together and Stiles felt compelled to lean in towards Derek and-

"Don't touch me." He Derek ordered, pulling his arm out of Stiles' grasp and returning the world back to normal.

Stiles put his hands up in resignation. "Fine, but why can't you tell where they are?"

"Because something else is covering the scent. I can't figure out what it is." Derek told him before jumping out of the car and starting towards the outcropping of trees.

Only he didn't make it, because to his left Carrie stumbled out from behind one of them, Isaac leaning heavily on her shoulder.

* * *

Derek managed to get the two of them into the jeep, actually picking Isaac up and carrying him.

"He's bleeding all over my upholstery." Stiles commented, watching Isaac in the rear view mirror. He was pale and blood seemed to soak every inch of his clothing. Carrie didn't look much better but she had assured them in a small, terrified voice that none of the blood was hers.

"If you don't drive faster he's going to dying all over your upholstery." Derek deadpanned.

"Okay, message delivered." Stiles muttered, pressing down a bit harder on the gas.

"Where are we going?" Carrie asked as they passed the hospital.

Derek and Stiles exchanged a look. "Um," Stiles said, unable to think up a plausible lie.

"To the vet clinic." Derek admitted, not turning around.

"Right," Carrie said slowly and Stiles could see her tugging on the bottom of her hair. "Because he's a- a- I don't know. Werewolf. Right? That's what he is. Werewolf. Okay. Isaac's a werewolf and we're bringing him to a vet." And suddenly she burst into laughter, clutching at her side as she doubled over.

"Glad my pain amuses you." Isaac commented dryly, eyeing her through half lidded eyes. He'd been drifting in and out of consciousness the whole ride.

"How did she know that?" Derek asked under his breath so only Stiles could hear. Well, Isaac probably could too, if he wanted to, but he was too busy watching Carrie laugh as if she'd just been told the best joke in the entire world.

"Maybe he changed in front of her to protect himself from whatever the fuck did that?" Stiles suggested, pointing at Isaac's midsection where his shirt was torn to shreds.

"Can we just drop her off somewhere?" Derek asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"What?"

"I can't focus with her in here." Derek said calmly. "I can't even get angry and, trust me, I want to get angry right now." He shook his head fiercely. "Something is wrong with that girl and it's screwing me up."

Stiles mind flashed back to the conversation he'd had in Deaton's officer where he'd said something about Carrie being a different kind of human, whatever that meant. Obviously it had something to do with her affect on Derek.

He didn't have time to figure out what it was that was going on, though, because Deaton's clinic came into view and he pulled into the driveway. The car didn't even fully stop before Derek jumped out, pulled open the back door and lifted Isaac out of the vehicle.

Stiles and Carrie waited in the car. Carrie had stopped laughing the second Isaac had been moved from the seat beside her and now she sat there, staring blankly down at her hands that were neatly folded in her lap, covered in dried blood.

His dad had invited Carrie to stay with them because he thought it would be safer, but so far Stiles couldn't help but think that he'd done nothing but make it worse.

* * *

"Was it the same thing that attacked the woman the other night?" Deaton asked, cutting off Isaac's shirt with a steady hand.

"Yes," Derek said at the exact same time Isaac said, "No."

"So what was it then?" Deaton questioned, frowning down at Isaac's midsection. He should have heeled more than that by now. The wounds were healing, but at half the rate they should have been.

He could see where the tranquilizer bullet entered the skin but it must have fallen out. That must have been why it wasn't healing, Deaton realized. Whatever was in that bullet was doing this.

Isaac sucked in a breath and closed his eyes. "It wasn't anything. It was human." His hands dug into the vet bed and his claws accidentally ripped through the material. "It was my dad."

* * *

**Thanks for all the reviews, guys! Nothing makes me smile more then reading a review, so you guys are awesome! And thanks even for just taking the time to read what I've written. 3 - C**


	13. Remember

"None of this makes sense." Derek growled, his hands balling into fists. He pounded them once on the table before him. "I know his dad's scent and whatever attacked him was _not_ his dad. Also his dad is very much _dead_, so…"

"It is highly peculiar." Deaton noted, examining the tranquilizer bullet he had from when Christ Argent came in. "I have theories, actually."

"Well?" One thing Derek was not good at was patience.

"The last patient I had that witnessed this thing also claimed that it was human." Deaton said slowly. "And do you know what else he said, when I asked if he could give a physical description? He said I wouldn't believe him if he did." Deaton placed the tranq bullet on the counter and faced Derek. "I think what we're dealing with is a very specific branch of wolfsbane. Similar to that which was used to many months ago at Lydia Martin's party, if you recall?"

Derek frowned. "I wasn't there but I know what happened."

"It seems to affect the part of the brain that stores our greatest fears and projects them into the world, even if they're impossible. In this case, I think it's taking the thing that we fear the most at the time, and giving it the face of the thing we fear the most in overall, making it more terrifying." Deaton explained. "And delivering it through these useful little bullets so that none of us know what's doing it, or who."

"Is there any kind of vaccine?" Derek demanded, feeling his heart sinking. How could they possibly fight something if they could never figure out what it was, or who?

"I'm afraid not." Deaton said solemnly.

"Okay." Derek accepted that and moved on. No reason to dread something you can't help. "What about the girl staying with Stiles? Carrie or whatever her name is. It was going to kill her, but it stopped. She's not lying, either, I can smell it all over her."

Deaton smiled patiently. "I'm not a teacher, you know."

"You're right." Derek agreed. "But you do know something. I want to know what it is." he shook his head and looked away for a second. "It's like- she affects me senses. I can't feel things properly when she's there."

Deaton was full on grinning now. "Yes, that is usual for people like her." He admitted. "I figured you would have worked this one out for yourself."

Derek frowned. "How could I? I've never met anything like that before."

Deaton raised his eyebrows. "Are you sure? Think about it, Derek. I'm sure you have."

Derek hesitated and thought for a second, trying to remember if he'd ever met anyone who looked similar to Carrie before. Sure, the whole blonde hair blue eyed thing wasn't exactly uncommon, but he didn't think he'd met her, or anyone related to her, before.

"Maybe focus more on remembering the feeling then the face." Deaton suggested.

That was easier. A werewolf may have better eyesight than a human, but it rarely relied on that sense. It was the other ones, like smell or hearing, or even just instinct and feeling, that was dominant.

"_You think you can climb higher then me?" Laura called while steadily making her way up the tall branches of the oak tree in their backyard._

"_I know I can." Derek shot back, trying to focus more on moving quickly then what Laura was doing. _

_She was always like this, always competitive. Derek was never allowed to win anything. He was always just a bit too slow, or a bit too clumsy, or a bit too weak. _

_But one thing Derek was better at was climbing. He had better control over his claws then she did, thanks to their uncle spending extra time training him, and he moved swiftly upwards towards the top most branches of the tree._

"_I wouldn't go that high!" Laura shouted from below him._

"_You're just saying that because you know I'm beating you!" Derek called back._

"_No, seriously Derek, come back-,"_

_Her scream ripped through the air as Derek tried to grab a branch that was too thin to hold him. He hurtled backwards, falling past branch after branch until finally he hit the ground with a sickening crunch and thud._

_His mother rushed out of the house, dishcloth still clutched in her hand, panic evident on her face. And Derek couldn't stop screaming._

_He couldn't move his legs. Both of them. They didn't feel broken. In fact, they didn't feel _anything_._

"_Derek, calm down." His mother urged, distressed. "You'll be okay. Promise. Just calm down honey."_

_But he couldn't calm down. He couldn't feel half of his body, didn't she understand that? It was as if someone had chopped him in half, right at the middle. _

"_Lisa!" His mother cried, and then his aunt was running out of the house too, but she didn't have his mother's superhuman speed. _

"_Oh dear," Lisa murmured, pushing curly locks of brown hair behind her ear. "It's the spine?"_

_His mother nodded. "But he won't calm down enough to focus on the healing."_

"_You're going to be okay, Derek." His aunt said calmly. She bent down and pressed a hand to his forehead. "You're okay."_

_And slowly the panic faded. He still couldn't feel his legs, but that didn't seem important anymore. He was calm, eerily so. As if nothing I the world could faze him at that moment._

"_Carry him into the house." Lisa told his mother. "He'll be fine in an hour or two. If you need me again just call."_

_His mother gave her a grateful look before scooping her son into her arms._

"See," Deaton told him. "You do remember."

But Derek was more confused then helped. Hundreds of questions berated his mind._ "_I don't understand." Derek said quietly. "Is she related to-,"

Deaton shook his head. "Not at all. But what do you remember about your aunt, Derek?"

Derek ran a hand through his hair. "Nothing that is relevant to right now." he ground out. He didn't like being confused. Not knowing what's going on could be life or death in most situations. "She was a werewolf, just like the rest of us. And she- she kept me calm, the same way Carrie does. But Carrie's not a werewolf."

"It seems you don't know as much about your family history as you'd like to think." Deaton said delicately. "But I have other patients to deal with now. Mr. Lahey is fine to go. I doubt he'll even have a scar to show in a day or two."

* * *

Derek returned to the Hale house once again, heading straight for the stack of books. Deaton said he was missing information. Information about his own family. And he had to figure out what it was.

It was hard to know where to look if you weren't sure what you were looking for, though, and Derek spent over an hour just scanning indexes, trying to figure out what to do.

With a sigh he put down what had to be the thirtieth book he'd picked up that day and he pulled his cellphone out of his pocket.

There was one person who could help him, one person who was good at research and finding things out. But actually calling him and asking for his help was something Derek would rather not do. Actually, on a list of things Derek would not like to do, ripping himself in half being number one, it was probably a close second.

It wasn't like he had a choice, though, he told himself. And if there was even a small part of him that was happily urging him on, he didn't acknowledge it. Stupid bond.

"Yeah?" Stiles answered on the second ring.

"It's Derek."

He could hear Stiles annoyed intake of breath and resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"What is you want me to do?" Stiles asked.

"How do you know I want you to do something?" Derek couldn't help but question.

"Because for some reason you never call me to just talk or ask how my day is. Actually, no one does. It's always werewolves this, Allison that, hey Stiles can you drive me somewhere? My friends suck."

Derek was used to Stiles by now and just ignored him. "I do need you to do something. Can you come by my old house? I need help with some research."

"Research." Stiles repeated, a teasing tone in his voice. "Is that what the kids call it now adays?"

"It has to do with your friend Carrie." he said and it had the affect he wanted. Stiles shut up instantly. "Deaton was being infuriatingly vague again but he says that this has something to do with my family."

"But Deaton said she was just human." Stiles said quietly, probably trying not to be heard by anyone else in his house.

"She _is_," Derek agreed. "But there's something more there and we need to figure out what it is."

"Well, sorry to break it to you but I can't help you."

"What? Why not?"

"Because, I don't know if you remember or not but the last time I left her alone some giant werewolf bear hybrid thing attacked her and almost _killed _Isaac."

Derek closed his eyes, a headache pounding in the back of his head. This is what Stiles did to him. When he wasn't making Derek want to rip out his throat he was giving him a headache.

"I'll send Isaac over there to watch her." He said after a moment of thinking.

"Wasn't Isaac just on an operating table because someone put a _clawed hand through his chest_?"

"Trust me," Derek told him. "Isaac won't mind."

"Okay, but what am I supposed to tell Carrie? That you called Isaac over here to baby sit her? She'd be pissed."

"Just figure something _out_, Stiles." Derek ordered. "And then get over here."

* * *

"You owe me big time." Stiles muttered as he walked into the abandoned Hale house.

"Whatever." Derek answered, not looking up from the book he was skimming.

"So what are you looking for?"

"I'm not exactly sure." Derek admitted grudgingly.

"Well, that's helpful." Stiles said under his breath.

Derek slammed his book closed. "I don't know if you've noticed but we're incredibly in the dark here. We're dealing with a whole shitload of stuff we don't understand and that is _dangerous_."

"Speaking of things we don't understand…" Stiles started, picking up a book to have something to do with his hands. "About the other night, and then in the car yesterday-,"

"That's not important." Derek said without looking at him.

"Yeah, actually, it is." Stiles said stubbornly. "At least to me. And you seem to know a bit more about it then I do so why don't you tell me what the hell is going on here."

Derek sighed in frustration and tossed the book he'd went through yesterday to Stiles. "Page 97."

He flipped open the book to the right page and started reading. When he was done he glanced up at Derek, eyes wide. "Seriously?"

Derek shrugged. "Can we get to work now?"

"So we're not going to talk about this?" Stiles demanded.

"What's there to talk about? Either I kill your or I find another person to bond with. Simple as that." Derek told him without looking into his eyes.

Stiles stood there for a second, completely baffled. But something inside of him, maybe uncontrollable, maybe not, was upset. Something didn't _want_ the bond to be broken. Something wanted it to be _stronger._

And so he took a quick step towards Derek. "What if we don't break it?"

Derek wanted to take a step back but the alpha in him resisted. "Of course we want to break it."

Stiles stared up into his eyes and then he blinked. "I never realized that before." He commented, tilting his head. "Your eyes. I kind of always thought they were blue. But they're more green, aren't they?"

And even the alpha in Derek submitted and took a step back. "Stiles, either we start doing research or I'm going to tear each of your limbs off, one by one, and beat you with them."

Stiles blinked, almost like he was coming out of a trance, and he shook his head. "Research. Right._"_


	14. Big Book of Hale

"You're doing homework?" Isaac commented, raising his eyebrows.

Carrie didn't look up from her work. Instead, she nodded and continued with her maths work.

The panic and adrenaline of the day had worn off and she felt both tired and terrified. She hadn't really had time, earlier, to process everything. She understood it at the time, sure, but she hadn't really thought about the whole situation.

The whole _werewolf_ situation. Werewolf. As in, creatures of myth. Things that made up the scary stories kids would tell each other, or read about. Not _real_ beings, surely. And yet she'd gotten proof. Real, hard, undeniable proof.

And Isaac was one of them.

He was one of them and now they were sitting alone in the Stilinski living room while Stiles went out to get pizza. At least, that's what Isaac _said _Stiles was doing when Isaac arrived twenty minutes ago and Stiles bolted out the door.

And if Isaac was a werewolf, that must have been what that thing that killed her mother and attacked them today was. Except it was all wrong. Isaac had still looked… human, underneath. That thing- there was nothing human there. Not in the eyes or the enormous shape of the body.

"You do realize it's spring break, right?" Isaac asked, still watching her intently.

What she wanted to do, really, was ignore him. Act like he wasn't there. But her pounding heart betrayed her.

Could he hear it? She wondered suddenly. Could he tell that she was terrified of him?

She thought back to that day not too long ago when he'd grabbed her arm in the hallway and she'd been so scared, and he had just grinned, like he knew and he thought it was funny.

He was definitely aware.

"So then you enjoy it?" She blurted angrily, turning to face him. She clutched her pencil in one hand, not sure if she would use it as a weapon if she needed to. For some reason despite being terrified she didn't think he would attack her. He could have already and he hadn't.

"Enjoy what?" Isaac asked, looking genuinely confused.

"Scaring me!" Carrie demanded, incensed. "You smile like it's a game, like it's funny." Tears of frustration welled in her eyes and she wiped at them, annoyed. "It's not funny." She added softly.

Isaac stared at her, unblinking. Slowly his eyes went from being filled with confusion to filled with something darker. Something sad.

"I'm sorry." Isaac said quietly, frowning as if he wasn't sure that was the right word to use.

Carrie resisted the urge to snap at him again and turned back to her work.

"Hey," Issac said, putting a hand on her arm. "Really. I'm sorry. I guess you're right," he admitted. "I did enjoy it. It was amusing, how I could get your heart racing so face without even trying. I can't say I didn't mean to, because I did. I guess I just didn't really think about the consequences."

"How would you feel?" She asked him, not even close to forgiving him. "It's not fun, Isaac. Being scared of someone. Or something. Especially when that person is doing it for fun. For their own enjoyment."

His eyes clouded over and she could sense that he was thinking of something else, oblivious to the world around him for just a moment.

"So you probably hate me, huh?" Isaac asked, leaning back and breaking contact.

Carrie dropped her pencil and leaned back from the table, crossing her arms over her chest as she did so. "Not really. I just think you're a jerk eighty percent of the time."

"Only eighty?"

"Well your mouth is shut roughly twenty percent of the time, so…" Carrie trailed off, grinning.

"Oh, so I'm only okay when I'm not talking?" Isaac countered, putting his elbows on his legs and leaning forward. "Is that because I'm so good to look at?"

Carrie's heart started beating quickly again but this time for a completely different reason. "Not really." She said flippantly.

"Liar."

* * *

"I can't find anything." Stiles said, throwing up his hands in defeat. "I don't even know what to go on since you won't really explain anything to me." He added while narrowing his eyes in Derek's direction.

Derek tossed his book to the ground. "Neither do I." He admitted, looking frustrated with himself. "We might as well stop. There's no use, I don't even know what to look for."

"Don't you have like, A Big Book of Hale book or something? Like the bestiary, except, you know, for your family."

"If we do it's gone." Derek said, turning his back on him. " This is all that I could salvage and I haven't found anything like it."

"Come on," Stiles looked around the room. "I bet there's one. I mean, you're a family of _werewolves_. There's got to be something like that. I bet it wouldn't just be lying around, though. It'd be somewhere protected. Somewhere safe." Stiles paused. "Like a safe!"

"There's no safe here."

"Ok, then maybe somewhere hidden? You can't honestly tell me that you don't think there's a chance that some book like that exists." Derek hesitantly nodded and Stiles continued. "Okay, so then where could it be?"

"It's not in the house. I've searched the entire thing and it's definitely _not_ here."

"What if it was left somewhere not in the house, just in case something happened? What if it was left with, like, I don't know, a friend of the families or a worker or someone like that?"

Realization dawned in Derek's eyes. "Deaton."

"Wouldn't he have given it to you already if he had it?" Stiles questioned, seeing a lot of flaws in that idea.

"No." Derek said quickly.

"Why not?"

"Because Deaton's a dick. He liked to watch us flounder around like a chicken with its head cut off." Derek grabbed his coat as he spoke. "Let's go."

"So I'm back to being Stiles Stilinski, Taxi Service." Stiles muttered before grabbing his coat.

* * *

"I'm gonna to be at least another half an hour." Stiles said into the phone. "Since Derek apparently doesn't understand the concept of walking.

"Well I had a car of my own," Isaac heard Derek say in the background. "But someone blew it _up,_ remember?"

"That wasn't my fault!" Stiles shot back. "But I'm the one being punished. You know what, the rest of you all need to get your own cars. That's it. This taxi service is closing."

Isaac stood in Stiles' kitchen, peering out the window. "Are you aware that you two sound married half the time?"

"Are you aware that I could slice you in half using one finger?" Derek said, obviously having heard him.

Isaac laughed, not really buying the threat. "Anyways, take as long as you want. I've got everything under control here." He pulled back from the window, not seeing anything worrying outside. "Also you might want to pick up some pizza on your way home because that's what I told Carrie you were doing."

He heard Stiles sigh and then he muttered, "Fine, just don't break anything." He paused. "And don't harass her or anything. You're there to watch her, not … flirt or whatever it is you're doing or thinking of doing. And don't say you're not because you sound way too please by this whole situation to not be benefiting from it somehow."

"Goodbye, Stiles." Isaac said, hanging up without agreeing to anything.

"So he's not going for pizza?" Carrie asked, making Isaac jump and drop the phone.

"How do you do that?" He asked, bending down to pick it up. "You always manage to sneak up on me."

Carrie crossed her arms over her chest. "Don't change the subject. You're not just here to hang out with Stiles, are you?"

Isaac ran a hand through his curls, trying to think of an excuse. "Maybe I'm here to see you."

Carrie just stared at him, her lips slightly pursed. He tried to stare back and not break eye contact but after a few seconds he couldn't help it. She made him feel guilty just by looking at him.

"Okay, fine, Stiles needed to do a favor for Derek. Derek's the guy who helped us out of the woods today." He added at the end, remembering that the two of them hadn't exactly been formally introduced.

"That still doesn't explain why you're here."

Isaac sighed. "Stiles thinks that that thing that attacked us today wants to kill you and he asked me to watch you while he's out."

"That is incredibly belittling." Carrie told him, scrunching her nose up in annoyance. "And that _thing_ doesn't want to kill me."

"You sure about that?" Isaac asked while pulling out a chair from the kitchen table. "Because I remember it chasing you today and it probably would have killed you if I hadn't shown up."

"And _I_ remember you being thrown up against a tree. That thing would have killed _you_ if I hadn't stood in front of you. All it did was sniff me and then it left." She told him. She pulled up a chair of her own and sat at the table. "So maybe it's actually trying to kill you."

* * *

"Are you stalking me?" Erica asked, not looking up from the book in her hand.

Josh slipped into the bench seat beside her. "Um, this is the mall. Where people shop. And I'm shopping."

"Mhmm."

"How do I know you're not the one stalking me?" Josh countered, and Erica looked up into his green eyes, a single golden eyebrow raised. "Okay, so neither of us is stalking each other." He carelessly threw an arm over the back of the bench. "Maybe it's just fate, bringing us together over and over again."

"If you're going to continue to use cheesey lines like that on me you might want to just get up and walk away now." Erica told him. Part of her wanted to smile, just for a second, but she pushed it down.

The best way to deal with boys, she learned, was to never let them control the situation. Never let them know that you like them too much, or that you think they're sweet. Because the second they know they've got the upper hand, you're screwed.

"So do you come to the mall to read often?" Josh asked, eying her book.

She closed it and put it in her bag. "I was taking a break from trying on clothes, actually."

"Well how about I buy you some lunch instead?" Josh suggested.

Erica eyes him, uncertain. He was cute. No, he was _hot_, but she always felt on edge when he was around. And he was being a bit too friendly with her. Too friendly usually meant that they only had one thing in mind.

Well, if he actually thought she was going to have sex with him because he said a few flattering words and bought her lunch, so be it. She'd just thank him and be on her way.

* * *

"I'm guessing Mr. Stilinski pointed you in the right direction." Deaton commented as he pulled off his plastic gloves.

Derek didn't answer but he didn't need to. Deaton could see it written plainly on his face.

"See? There's a reason that bond is in place. You two do make a good pair."

Derek resisted the urge to growl at him. "Do you have the book?"

"I do." He said, moving past Derek. "It's in my office."

Derek couldn't help but sigh in relief. That was so easy, after Stiles figured it out. And things were never easy for them.

"Why couldn't you just have given it to me in the first place?" Derek asked as he followed Deaton into his office.

Deaton turned and smiled. "If I did all the work for you, how would you ever learn?"

Deaton went to his desk and Derek watched, slightly impressed, as he put a hand on both front legs of the desk and pressed a hidden button at the top of them. Suddenly a drawer at the back popped open.

"There is it." Deaton told him.

Derek moved forwards and pulled the drawer open the rest of the way. Inside was a book about the size of the average novel. It looked just like one, too, except it had no title. He kind of expected it to be old and withered, but it was in good condition, as if it had been taken very well care of.

Derek tucked the book under his arm and stood there awkwardly for a moment. He knew he ought to say it but he really didn't want to. "Thank… you." He said slowly.

"Any time, Derek." Deaton told him. "I'm very impressed by what you and Mr. Stilinski can accomplish when you actually work together instead of against each other."

Derek didn't know what to say to that. Well, he thought of a few things but calling Deaton an assbucket after giving him the book seemed a little wrong, so he held it in. Instead, he left, returning to Stiles' jeep.

"he had it, didn't he?" Stiles demanded the second he opened the door. He was like a hyped up puppy, brown eyes wide and mouth hanging open slightly.

Derek tossed the book to him and he caught it, just barely, on the tips of his fingers. "I knew it. Who was right? Oh, yeah, it was me." Stiles said, his lips turned upwards in a self congratulating smile. "Let's just hope that it has what we're looking for."

"Something about people having affects on werewolves. Deaton said my aunt and Carrie have something in common, and that something is their affect on me. Or maybe it's all werewolves? I don't know. All I know is that when she's even in the same room as me I just feel… calm. Weirdly calm."

"Ooookay." Stiles said slowly, flipping open the book. "That was really helpful. What's your aunts name?"

"Lisa."

Stiles nodded and started reading. They hadn't left the vet clinic parking lot yet and Derek sat there, impatiently waiting for Stiles to figure it out.

"Stop doing that." Stiles ordered, not looking up.

"Doing what? I'm not even moving." Derek said narrowing his eyes in annoyance.

"Staring at me! I can feel your eyes burning into my soul."

"Well maybe if you'd hurry _up-_,"

"Maybe if you stopped distracting me I would!"

Derek turned away from him and purposely stared out the window and Stiles went back to reading.

"You said Lisa, right?" Stiles asked after a few moment.

"Yeah?"

"She's not under the list of werewolves in your family history here." Stiles said, opening the book wide on his lap so Derek could see. He pointed to a family tree. "She's not on there anywhere. No Lisa. Does she have a different last name? Was she married into the family?"

"No, she was my dad's sister. She was born into the family."

Derek leaned in and frowned. He lifted his eyes to Stiles, only to find the other staring straight ahead, looking uncomfortable. His heart was beating a mile a minute and he would not look at Derek.

"You done leaning towards my crotch now?" He asked.

Derek jerked his head back so fast he hit his head on the roof of the jeep. "Damn it," he muttered, rubbing his head.

"Wait, there's a list on the next page." Stiles commented, eyes scanning the page quickly. "Lisa Hale, born December 13th, 1971."

"Okay, but why is she in a separate list?"

"Because," Stiles said slowly. "She's not a werewolf."


	15. Souls

**I know this chapter is a little late ( I try to get one out every day) but I had to redo it a few times because I wasn't really happy with it. Anyways, this is the end result so, enjoy. And review, if you want. Lots of love! - C**

* * *

"That's not possible." Derek said instantly, grabbing the book out of Stiles' hands.

"It says right _here_," Stiles pointed, ripping the book back. "'Human members of the Hale family.'"

Derek stared at the writing for a moment before grabbing the book once again and jumping out of the car, slamming the door angrily behind him.

"Wait, where are you going?!" Stiles shouted, but he didn't get an answer. All he got was Derek's back, retreating inside Deaton's clinic.

"Damn it," Stiles muttered before pushing open his door and following him.

When he got inside the clinic his eyes widened. Derek was leaning over the counter, Deaton's shirt collar gripped tightly in his hand. His eyes were read and he his teeth were bared.

"I would appreciate it if you would calm down please, Derek." Deaton said in a quiet, resigned voice.

"I'd appreciate it if you stopped jerking me around!" Derek shot back.

Stiles ran up to them and put a hand on Derek's arm. "Hey, dude, calm." He said quickly.

Derek's head snapped to the side and he growled at Stiles for a second before slowly the light in his eyes dimmed and they returned to their usual colour.

"Let go." Stiles ordered and Derek's hand slipped from Deaton's shirt. "Now, sit. Good boy!"

Derek smacked him on the side of the head, not hard enough to do damage but enough that he felt a quiet ringing in his left ear. "Jerk."

"I want answers." Derek said in what must have been his 'calm' voice, except really it only sounded like he was doing a bad job at suppressing his anger. "I don't want some vague reply that leaves me with more questions, I want you to _answer_ me."

Deaton took a step back and ran a hand over his bald head. "I guess that's fair. Though I don't see how you'll learn anything-,"

"The book says that Lisa isn't human. That doesn't make any sense… unless she was adopted. And still that leaves so many questions because _why_ would my grandparents need to adopt, they had about ten children-,"

"Sometimes," Deaton said slowly. "the werewolf gene skips generations. It doesn't happen often, but it is possible."

Derek paused for a second, taking this in. After a moment he nodded. "Okay, so it skipped a generation. But what about the affect she had on me? And the one Carrie has?"

"Any person born into a werewolf family has certain abilities, even when they're born human. Control over the emotions of those around you is one of them, though it usually only works on werewolves. If, say, Carrie walked in here right now she would be able to calm you down, but both Mr. Stilinski and myself would be untouched by her abilities. Unless, of course, she were to _try_ and use them, focus her energy on us. Then it would be able to work." Deaton explained.

"What else? What else can they do? And why does it happen? Why would it just skip a generation?" Derek wanted to know.

"Wait, does that mean- what about Lydia? She was immune to the bite. Is that because-," Stiles cut in.

"No, Mrs. Martin is a very special case. She was born into a very human family. The reasoning behind her immunity is still a mystery to me." Deaton told him. "In the case of a werewolf who has been skipped by the gene, also known as an Innocent Soul, the ability to be turned is still there. It has happened, many times."

"Then why would my aunt chose to stay human?" Derek wondered, taking a step back from both Deaton and Stiles. He realized Stiles still had a hand on his arm and he jerked out of the grip.

"There are theories, about Innocent Souls. Many believe that the reason they're not born with the werewolf gene has something to do with their souls, as given the name. Some believe that they are incorruptible, untainted, truly good right to the very bottom. Some believe that the goodness is what stops the gene from manifesting in them."

Stiles snorted. Derek and Deaton both turned to him. "Sorry." he said quickly. "It's just- seriously? Souls?"

Deaton shrugged, giving Stiles a patient look. "I've seen things that should be far more impossible."

"That still doesn't explain why they don't just get bitten-,"

"There's two reasons for that. One, the blood of an Innocent is poisonous to a werewolf. It takes extreme caution to be able to turn one, and most people never want to anyways. The second reason continues with the theory of their souls being innocent and incorruptible. You see," Deaton leaned in, his eyes alight. He seemed as interested in telling the story as Stiles and Derek were in hearing it. "When someone turns an Innocent, their humanity burns out. Fzzz." He made a fizzling sound and snapped his fingers. "It's just gone. In every case, after the initial bite and change, the person is unable to return to human form. It's almost as if they are all beast, no human."

"Okay." Derek said slowly. "But how does Carrie fit into all this? Last time I checked she was _not_ related to me."

Deaton sighed, not sparing the same patient look for Derek. "You can't truly believe that you're the only family of werewolves."

Derek's hands clenched into fists. "I guess not." He admitted.

"So then your friend Carrie must be the offspring of a line of werewolves. A different line. Most likely through her father, since her mother showed no signs of being a werewolf."

"Wait, is that why that thing didn't attack her today?" Stiles put in, looking between Deaton and Derek. "She said it just… sniffed her."

Deaton's eyes turned sharp. "You're sure? That's what she said?"

Stiles nodded. "It just sniffed her and then walked away."

"Then that means we are sure what we're dealing with." Deaton said quietly. "I thought, after hearing the description, that it might be, but the attacks and the nature of them… it just seemed plausible that it could be something else…"

"So it is a werewolf." Derek concluded.

Deaton nodded. "But there must be something wrong with it. We've all heard the description. Does that sound like any werewolf you've ever encountered?"

Both boys shook their heads, no.

"Years ago, before it was universally decided against, there was some… mild experimentation with the werewolf gene. Certain people wanted to see if it could be improved upon, or enhanced. It was all failed, of course, and the test subjects were… put down, but maybe what we're dealing with is a werewolf. Just a mutated one…" Deaton closed his eyes. "I need to do some research. If I'm right, and, not to boast but I usually am, then we have an abomination on our hands, and it needs to be taken care of very quickly."

* * *

"Are you going to tell me anything about yourself?" Joshua asked, straw of his large Pepsi still in his mouth.

Erica splayed her hands on the table in front of her. "Probably not."

"Mysterious." Joshua noted. "Lucky me."

"Why would that make you lucky?"

"Because," Josh said, his green eyes narrowing slightly as he smiled. "The best part of a mystery is figuring it out."

Erica snorted. She was having a good time, though. Josh was funny, and he was paying for lunch. When was the last time she'd been taken on a date? Oh yeah, never.

"You realize you are literally the cheesiest person I've ever met, right?"

Josh shrugged. "What? Romance not your thing?" he asked, and suddenly the smile dropped from his face to be replaced by a look of surely indifference. "I can do that bad boy thing, if that's what does it for you."

Erica leaned forwards, close enough that she could feel his breath mingling with her own. She grinned at the response, his green eyes turning a darker shade and his breath hitching. "How about you just be you." She suggested before grabbing a French fry off his plate and sitting back in her seat.

Joshua leaned back, heart still hammering in his chest. She shouldn't get that close to him. He shouldn't _let_ her. That was so dangerous. It wasn't like he could just slit her throat, right there in the cafeteria, though. Not that he didn't _want _to.

Sure, Erica was attractive. And sure she kept him on his toes, which was the kind of thing he looked for in a girl, but she was a beast. She completely repulsed him. He wouldn't even be here, on this silly date or whatever you wanted to call it, if it hadn't been for his orders.

Getting close to the back would be easier if he had an in and, given his good looks, the easiest in they could find was with Erica. Except she was proving difficult. None of his charm was working and spending more time with her then necessary was making Joshua furious.

He considered killing her, one more time, as she tilted her head to the side and grinned at him. Sadly, that just wasn't an option, so instead he sat there, returning the smile as his stomach churned.


	16. Bound

Erica left the mall alone after her date with Josh. She'd tried to find something to do afterwards but hanging out at the mall alone wasn't fun. You needed friends. _Girl_friends, she added to herself. She had gotten Boyd to come along with her numerous times and that had been both uncomfortable and annoying. Not that she didn't like Boyd, but he was just such a … guy.

As she shouldered through the front door of the mall she passed a group of giggling girls around her age, all of their eyes focus on a boy who was walking past them. Her eyes narrowed slightly. She would never have that, that simple life of a teenage girl. All she got to do was hang out in a warehouse and learn to defend herself, or fight some ungodly creature that was hell bent on killing everyone.

"Not that I would want that." She muttered to herself, pulling her eyes away from the girls. Who would want to be that vapid anyways? She had everything she needed. She was hot, she was fun, and she was constantly surrounded by good looking guys. That's what any teenage girl would want. Having another one around, another female, would only be competition. Not fun.

At least, that's what she tried to tell herself. The empty feeling in her chest said differently. But why should wanting a friend matter so much? She'd never really had one before. Not a real girlfriend, not like Allison and Lydia, who could call each other in the middle of the night to talk about important things or boys or just anything.

She had Boyd and Isaac. That should be good enough. But a part of her wondered if they would even talk to her if she wasn't part of the pack. They were more like siblings then friends.

As she crossed the street, her head caught up in her thoughts, she missed the large van speeding towards her. At the last minute it screeched to a halt, pausing right in front of her.

"Hey!" The driver shouted.

Erica considered letting her eyes flicker to yellow for just a second to scare the driver but then thought the better of it. Derek would be pissed.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you it's not safe to walk alone this late at night?" The driver commented as Erica continued to walk.

She paused and turned to him, her eyes narrowing now. "Didn't anyone ever tell you not to harass people?" She shot back.

The driver, a middle aged man who seriously needed to shave, and that was coming from someone who spent most of her time with Derek, shrugged and drove off. Erica continued walking, rounding the corner onto a cul-de-sac that she knew led to a dead end. She could get to the warehouse faster cutting through the woods.

She was halfway through the neighbourhood when the same rumbling engine of the van pulled up behind her. She didn't turn this time. If it continued to bother her, she decided, she would go all wolf, Derek be damned.

Before she could even turn, though, something buried itself in her left shoulder. She jumped, turning in the air, and landed on all fours. A cry ripped through the air, low and guttural. The driver of the van only looked at her with amusement, like a dog watching a kitten try to bite it's leg.

And then suddenly he changed, his face contorting into one she recognized too well. That didn't make any _sense_, her mind told her. Just a second ago the face had been different, but now she was staring into the cruel eyes of Gerard Argent.

The doors to the van opened and someone jumped out. She blinked, disoriented, and looked at the driver again.

Her body was telling her to ignore it, to fight, but her heart was thudding in her chest at how _wrong_ this whole scene was. Gerard was _dead_, but now she was seeing two of him.

_Whatever hit you in the back did something_, her mind was screaming.

She backed up a few steps, standing up again. The second Gerard, the one out of the van, took a step towards her and the scent that come off of him was familiar. Like blood. Danger.

And then her mind and her body seemed to agree upon one thing and she started running.

"Switch to the tranqs!" A deep voice yelled behind her.

She stopped running in a straight line and made her movements erratic and unpredictable. Whoever was shooting at her had good aim, though, and she only made it just to the edge of the wood when a sharp pain shot through her ankle and she went down.

Whatever was in the tranquilizer bullet this time seemed to fight with the first bullet and the face of the man that leaned over her seemed to waver between old and wrinkled to young and lovely, green eyes turning to blue, curly brown hair turning to white.

"Lucky for me the boss had a change of heart. It seems that we won't be able to get any useful information out of you." Josh grinned down at her and she blinked, and there was Gerard again. "Welcome to Plan B, Erica."

Erica woke up to find her mouth gagged. It was almost comical, really, how easy it was for her to get out of the gag. She'd been tied up too many times to count, and sadly never in the fun, kinky way. Usually it was only when someone was trying to kill her.

The car seemed to hit a pothole and the back tires hit the asphalt hard, causing her teeth to clank together.

That was a first. Usually she didn't wake up until after the ride was over. That was their mistake.

Erica looked around, trying to think of the best exit strategy.

"You're not getting out of here."

Erica turned and her eyes widened slightly. Josh only tilted his head in the direction of the floor.

Petals were scattered everywhere, covering nearly every inch of the floor. She recognized that plant, but there was something off about the shape of the petals, something different…

"You can't change as long as those things are everywhere." Josh explained. "Certain types of wolfsbane can be very helpful. These little suckers," he bent over and pinched one between his fingers and brought it close to her face. The smell of it filled her nostrils. She'd never inhaled chilli powder but she figured it would feel something like this. She was vaguely surprised that her nose didn't start bleeding. "These are rare. Expensive and hard to find but extremely useful. No little werewolf tricks for you."

Erica tried to extend her claws anyways but nothing happened. It was like a limb had been cut off, the most important one. She could almost feel it missing, the place where the werewolf part of her was supposed to be.

"What are you trying to accomplish here?" She bit out.

Josh laughed, tilting his back. "Do you really think we're going to tell you that? You know, you're a lot of things Erica but I don't think stupid is one of them."

_I was stupid enough not to listen to my instincts about you, _she thought bitterly.

"Well, at least you bought me dinner before trying me up." Erica commented, trying to put on a brave face. She was scared, though. She could admit that to herself.

Who ever these people were, they were better prepared then anyone the pack had ever faced before. The Argents were smart and they were good hunters, sure, but this… She tried her fingers again and still nothing. This was brilliant. Terribly, horribly brilliant. And she was so screwed.

"We almost there?" Josh called, peeking his head between the front seat.

"Two minutes. She all strapped in?" The driver asked.

"I've just got to attach the bomb and she's done." Josh answered.

Erica's heart stopped at the word bomb. Josh leaned under the seat and produced a small little device that reminded her of the walkman she had as a kid. He leaned over her and pulled up her left pant leg. Attached to her ankle, beneath the rope that tied her to the seat, was a small strap.

She couldn't see what he was doing but when he pulled back, the walkman-thing was attached to her ankle. "You're going to do us a little favour, Erica." Josh told her. He ruffled her hair and she couldn't resist biting at his hand. Even with human teeth she figured she could rip a chunk out of him.

Erica didn't say anything. All she could think about was the thing attached to her ankle and the quite, almost undetectable beeping sound coming from it.

"You see, we happen to know that half your pack is inside this house right now." Josh commented, pointing a finger down the street. Erica could just make out the shape and size of it, and the car in the driveway.

Not car. Jeep.

"Now, you're going to go in there, and you're going to convince Derek and Isaac to follow you back here. If they don't, or if you alert anyone to what is going on, I'm going to press the button on my detonator here, and that little bomb attached to your ankle is going to blow. Oh, and don't even think about removing it because its rigged to detonate if you do so. The only way to get that thing off you alive is if you have the key."

"Why?" Erica asked. It had been nagging at her the whole time. "Why go through all this trouble-,"

"My boss wants it done, so we're getting it done. Why doesn't matter." Josh told her, his green eyes narrowing. "Honestly, you should thank him. If it was up to me I'd have just slaughtered you all."

"That's only half the pack. You think the rest of them won't come looking for us?" Erica spat.

Josh shrugged. "Where we're going, that isn't going to matter. And actually, we're kind of planning on it."


	17. Kidnapped

Carrie and Isaac were back in the living room by the time Stiles got home. Carrie had finished her work and was sitting on the floor in front of the couch while Isaac lounged on Stiles' couch, watching television.

The door flew open and Stiles bustled in, the guy who had helped carry Isaac to the Jeep earlier, Derek, following behind him.

"Where's the pizza?" Carrie asked, raising her eyebrows at Stiles.

His eyes widened for a second. "I, uh-,"

"Don't forget to pay my babysitter, too." She added.

She was torn between annoyance and gratitude for Stiles. She didn't like that he thought she needed someone to protect her, but at the same time the fact that he cared enough to worry was nice.

Stiles turned to Isaac. "Way to throw me under the bus."

Isaac put up his hands in defence. "I didn't say anything, she heard me talking to you on the phone."

"Can we do this sitcom banter later?" Derek asked, looking peeved. "We have new information about that thing that attacked you two, and-,"

Someone knocked at the door interrupting him. Stiles frowned. "Is that Scott?"

Derek pulled the door open and Erica stood there, a panicked look on her face. "Hey," she said quickly, addressing only Derek. "We need to go. There's-," she looked around, eyes wide. "I was just at the warehouse, with Boyd, and- something attacked us."

Derek gave her a once over. She wasn't bleeding or anything, but her hair was dishevelled and she looked really freaked out. "When?"

"Not long ago, I ran over here as fast as I could." She grabbed his arm. "Come _on_!" she urged.

Something about the whole thing struck Carrie was wrong, as she watched them talk. Something was off.

Isaac had jumped off the couch and was at Derek's side in seconds. "What if it was the thing that attacked us?"

"Where's Boyd?" Derek demanded, ignoring him.

"He- they took him!"

"I'll drive. We'll get there faster." Stiles offered, already pulling his keys out of his pocket.

"No!" Erica yelled. "I mean, we'll get there faster on foot. It's dangerous, Stiles, you should stay here." There were tears in her brown eyes as she looked up at him. "Just stay here."

Again that odd feeling rang through her, like Erica wasn't telling the whole truth.

"She's right." Derek agreed, already stepping out the door. "Stay here. I'll call you if we need back up."

Stiles looked like he was about to protest and Carrie almost laughed, if the whole thing hadn't set her on edge. There was obvious concern and worry in his face as he looked at Derek, and Derek made a point of not meeting his eyes.

"Fine," Stiles agreed grudgingly. "But I'm calling Scott and telling him."

Derek nodded and was out the door. Isaac followed behind him.

Carrie still had that wrong feeling in her, and she bit her lip, watching him walk out the door. "Be careful!" Carrie heard herself say as he walked out the door. She hadn't meant to. She hadn't even really thought about it. The words were just out of her mouth before she had a chance.

Isaac turned to her and gave her a quick, flashy smile. "I'm always careful."

She seriously doubted that as the door closed between them. She and Stiles both stood there for a moment, both of them looking at the closed door, caught up in there own thoughts.

The wrong feeling continued to stay in here, nagging at the back of her mind. Something was up. Erica was hiding something.

"I'm so sick of that." Stiles muttered, finally turning away. "They always act like I'm a liability."

Carrie could sense that he was just as worried as she was, though for different reasons. "We need to follow them."

"What?"

"Erica was lying about something. Or holding information back. Something is up there." She frowned, frustrated. "I can't figure out what it is, I just _know_."

"Why would she be lying?" Stiles asked, looking unconvinced.

"I don't know! I don't even know her." She started to feel panicked all of a sudden. "Just trust me, something is wrong."

Stiles hesitated, looking between Carrie and the door. Finally he shook his head. "Okay, let's go. But you need to call Scott."

He handed her his phone and pulled open the door. She flipped it open, following him outside.

They didn't make it to the jeep before she heard the squealing of tires and an angry cry. It was too dark to see what was going on, but she could faintly make out the outline of a van in the distance and people outside of it. Someone was getting dragged _in_to it.

"Is that-,"

"Get in the jeep!" Stiles ordered.

She hadn't even pulled on her seatbelt or fully shut the door when Stiles peeled out of the driveway. She pulled hard on the door and it finally clicked closed and she hurried to put on her belt.

Whoever was driving the van obviously knew they were following and they picked up speed, driving far above the speed limit. They pulled a sudden left at the corner and Stiles followed, but at the last second they pulled out of it.

Stiles Jeep didn't have the same easy control, and he pulled onto the road before he managed to turn the vehicle around. By that point the van had already darted down the street, disappearing around a corner.

Stiles slammed his hands on the dashboard. "Shit!" he looked over at Carrie, his eyes wide. "That street leads to an intersection. There's no way we'd be able to follow them. They're too far gone."

Carrie barely heard him. There was a rushing sound in her ears and her heart wouldn't slow. It felt like her blood had turned to ice in her veins. It was painful and terrifying.

"People don't just get _kidnapped_," she told Stiles. "That doesn't _happen_. And werewolves don't exist! This whole- this whole _thing_," she started breathing in short pants. "This is insane. This isn't _real_."

"Carrie," Stiles put a hand on her arm. "Hey, it'll be okay."

"No, it _won't._" She said passionately, wiping tears from her cheeks. "It won't get better. I just want to go home. I can't- normally people can't deal with this, Stiles. It's crazy!"

"I'll drive you home, drop you off and deal with this myself." Stiles said instantly, putting the car in drive. "I never should have let you get caught up in this in the first place."

Carrie shook her head fiercely. "No. No, I'll be fine." She said in a strangled voice. "I'll be fine, just-," she held out his cellphone. "Just call Scott. Think of a plan."

He nodded, looking dumbstruck, and pulled the jeep over to the side of the road to park it. He quickly dialled a number and pressed the phone to his ear.

_How did I get caught up in this_? Carrie wondered, staring out the front window. She was trying to breath slowly, taking I deep breaths and counting to three before releasing them. What she needed to do was get out of this car and get far, far away from this whole situation. Far from Stiles, and Isaac, and the rest of them.

But she stayed planted where she was. If she could help, even just a little, then it would be wrong of her to just run out on them. If something happened to him and she didn't stop it, she wouldn't be able to live with herself.

_Them, _she corrected. Them.

"We'll be there in five minutes." Stiles said into the phone and then hung it up and put it in his pocket. "You okay?" He asked her.

She nodded. "As good as I'm ever going to be."

* * *

"My dad's still in the hospital," Allison said, leading them through her house. "He's not going to be out until the day after tomorrow, at the earliest. Buuuuut," she pushed open a door and led them into her garage.

"Is that even legal?" Stiles asked, raising his eyerbows. He figured that the Argent's would have to have a pretty good arsenal of weapons, but this was insane. There was every kind of gun he could think of, from bolt action riffles to pump action shotguns to fully automatics.

Allison shrugged. "All I know is that we have no idea what we're going to be up against. Sadly, unlike Scott, we don't all have wolf powers. We need to defend ourself."

"Are you sure you want to come?" Scott asked, voice low in her ear. "Maybe you should just stay here. I don't want-,"

"Me getting hurt, I know." Allison resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "And I don't want _you_ to get hurt, so I'm going to come and watch your back."

"Okay, but you've got your bow. What's all this for?" He had to ask.

"We have no idea what we're going to be up against here. I say we all need to be prepared, including Stiles and her." Allison pointed out, jerking a head in Stiles and Carrie's direction. Stiles was busy examining the guns and Carrie was looking worried.

"What? You're going to actually give _Stiles_ a gun?" Scott raised his eyebrows. "Come on, that couldn't possibly end well."

"It's better than him being unarmed."

"For who, exactly?" Scott muttered, picturing Stiles shooting everything within a five mile radius.

"Look, Scott, what if these people are working with the thing that attacked my dad?" Allison questioned, her eyes suddenly growing sad and worried, her hard exterior cracking. "It killed an entire hunting pack, Scott. It almost killed my dad. We need all the possible help we could get if we want to make it out with the others alive."

He couldn't help it. He wrapped his arms around her, encompassing her body, keeping her safe just for a moment. "If you think it will help, then I guess we'll give Stiles a gun."

"I'm getting a gun?" Stiles exclaimed, looking over at the two of them with glee. "Awesome!"

"Give him something small that can't do too much damage." Scott told Allison quickly.

* * *

Twenty minutes later Allison had given Stiles the basic instructions on how to use the pistol. Despite the situation and the severity of the whole thing, Stiles had a gleeful smile planted on his face the whole time.

Carrie, on the other hand, had blatantly refused to even touch the pistol. "I'll sit outside with the car, in case we need a quick getaway." She said, shaking her head as Allison tried to hand her the gun.

"You still need something to protect yourself. Trust me, sitting outside isn't always the safest idea."

"She's right." Stiles agreed.

"I- I can't. It'll just be deadweight. I can't shoot someone." Carrie told them. Her blue eyes were wide and serious.

Allison nodded. She understood, even though she wished Carrie would take the thing. She didn't like guns herself. She'd always preferred her crossbow. The chances of accidentally shooting someone with a crossbow were low. Guns were more dangerous.

"I've got a tranquilizer gun. It'll work on humans, but I'm not sure how much good it will do against a werewolf." Allison told her, grabbing the thing from its case.

It was bigger then Stiles pistol. The barrel was longer and it could be used for close range or long distances. Allison loaded it with four tranquilizers and grabbed the small pack beside it which held twelve more.

"It's not hard to reload." Allison explained, showing her how to put the tranquilizer bullets in. "And it doesn't have much recoil, so shooting it should be easy. Just be careful with the aim."

Carrie hesitantly grabbed the gun. She still wasn't comfortable with this whole thing, but at least you couldn't accidentally kill someone with a tranquilizer bullet.

"What if we can't find them?" She asked nervously, a sliver of doubt going through her.

"There's not that many places in this town you can hide three werewolves." Scott pointed out.

"What about Boyd?" Stiles put in. "He wasn't with them. We have to get him, too." He said quickly, realizing that they'd been so stupid. "How could we forget Boyd? He's probably still at the warehouse. If whoever took the others knew where we were, they must know about the warehouse."

"We'll stop by there first." Scott agreed. "Let's hope they don't have him, too. We could use all the help we can get."

"What about Jackson?" Allison asked quietly.

"No way. We're not asking for his help." Scott said instantly. "You know he won't. He doesn't leave the house for anything but school anymore. Not even Lydia could get him to come."

That was true. Every since the whole changing from a kanima into a werewolf thing, and the scene with Gerard, Jackson had become introverted. No matter how much they pushed him, he didn't listen. No one knew why, or what to do.

"So we're just going to have to make do with the four of us." Scott told her.

* * *

**Sorry this update took long, again, I've been currently working on a Sterek minific that was supposed to be only a couple hundred words but it somehow escalated into this 10k word _thing_ and it's all I've been able to write for the last couple days because I just want to get it finished. Anyways, the next update will not take as long *I hope* and I am so sorry. I know how annoying it is to wait for a fic update, not that any of your are actually sitting there anxiously anticipating it, but whatever. :P - C**


	18. Caught

It was almost painfully easy to find where the others were being held. They drove through the city a single time, Stiles only complaining about how much gas he was wasting once, because circling through all the most probable places. First they stopped at the warehouse, which is where the others lives, Stiles explained.

Carrie had followed behind the other three as they entered the place, pushing down her initial shock. Isaac lived her? She thought, eyes widening. It was grungy and not homey in the least. It wasn't dirty, per say, and it was obvious that they'd tried to make it as accommodating as possible. It was just so… sad, the whole thing. That anyone would have to live like this.

Scott had called Boyd's name a few times, sniffed the air (honest to god sniffed it, like a dog) and declared that Boyd wasn't there, and that someone else _had_ been. Someone Scott said wasn't part of the pack.

And they were back on the road again, Scott's head nearly out the window. Carrie ignored it, remember her freak out earlier that night. Scott's overtly animalistic behaviour could set her off again if she thought on it too long.

"Turn!" Scott said quickly, and Stiles sharply turned the corner, tires squealing in protest.

"A little more warning next time, yeah?" He huffed, hands clenching on the wheel.

"Sorry," Scott said, not looking apologetic in the least.

They'd pulled onto a short street that, like so many, opened up to woods at the end. Most of the street was shops, actually. A used book store, a movie rental place that looked like it was going out of business, a corner store. There were only two houses on the block and one of them looked deserted, all lights off and no curtains covering the windows.

The worst thing about the entire situation wasn't just her own fear and anxiety, it was that she could feel Stiles' worry. She didn't know how, exactly, because his was a mask of absolute calm, but it was there, just under the surface.

"I can just-," Scott's face scrunched up in a frown. "We're close." He said after a moment. "I just can't pinpoint it, exactly…" he turned to face Carrie and searched her face, confused. "Can you stop that?"

For some reason her eyes went to Stiles first, and he was giving her a wide eyed look, his eyes off the road for just a moment.

"Stop what?"

"I don't know," Scott said, looking frustrated, but with himself more than Carrie. "I can't _focus_." he tapped the back of Stiles' seat. "Pull over. I need to get out. I can't- I can't find them in here."

Stiles pulled the jeep to the side of the road and Scott was out the door before he even put the vehicle in park. Allison was too busy watching out the window, an anxious look on her face, for Carrie to ask her what her boyfriend meant.

"What did he mean?" She asked Stiles instead.

Stiles shrugged. "How should I know? He's my best friend, sure, but Scott's a freak. I don't know what goes on inside that werewolf head of his." But the words, like Erica's earlier, were unconvincing. Lucky for him, Carrie decided that now was not the time to press the subject. She would do that later, after everything was fixed. Because it would be. It would be fixed, she was sure of it.

Scott came back not a minute later, pulling open the door to jump inside her jeep. His hand immediately found Allison's and he peeked his head between Carrie and Stiles' seat.

"Go back the way we came onto that last road and pull over." Scott commanded.

Stiles did as he said right away, no questioning first or demanding to know why. He trusted Scott enough to know that there was a reason for him bossing him around.

"Okay," Scott started the second they were parked. "They're in the house on the left. I can smell all their scents leading there. They're probably in a basement or something. It's a big house."

Stiles and Allison both nodded and Carrie was struck again by how insane this all way, but none of the other three seemed to think so. This was normal for them. There was an almost unsurprised resignation on all their faces, like this was something they'd become accustomed to.

"Allison, I want you to go in through the top window. There's a tree leaning close enough to it for you to access it." He said, giving her a look that said he completely believed in her. It was kind of sweet, if it wasn't for the situation. "Stiles, there's a back door. That's your job."

He nodded, patting the gun attached to the holster Allison gave him. "What about you?"

Scott smiled, his eyes flashing. Carrie heard her own intake of breath. "I'm going in the front." And then his eyes turned back to the normal chocolate brown. "Stiles, give Carrie your cell. I'm going to keep mine on me. If you get a text from me, I want you to pull the jeep up out front of the house and leave it running, waiting for us. If, for any reason, we don't come back out, you need to find Allison's dad. His name is Chris Argent, he's at the hospital. He'll be able to help."

She nodded, her mouth too dry to say anything.

"Let's do this." Stiles said, a determined look on his face.

* * *

Stiles' hand didn't shake as he pulled the gun out of the holster. He creeped along the side of the house, focusing on the anger pulsing through him. The anger that had been so dominant since he'd heard Derek and the others getting kidnapped.

He couldn't tell if it was the bond between them or just his general concern for Derek, but he was boiling with rage. They couldn't get a _break_, ever. They couldn't relax, let their guard down. Nothing was ever okay for any of them, and that sucked so hard that Stiles couldn't help his emotions.

The back door led into a nice, polished kitchen. He could see through the windows that no one was inside.

He tried the door handle and it was unmoving in his hand, locked. He considered kicking the door down but knew he wouldn't be able to. Instead, he covered the fun with his shirt to muffle the sound and broke out one of the small panes of glass on the door. He shoved his hand in carefully, wincing as he still managed to slice his arm a bit on the ragged pieces of glass, and turned the lock.

It was some kind of miracle that the door didn't squeak as he opened it, but then again it wouldn't matter. He could hear the sound of crunching wood as Scott broke through the front door, and the pounding of footsteps.

And then there was a loud, animalistic cry, covering every other noise. It wasn't coming from Scott, either, but the general direction of the basement.

Derek.

Stiles moved purposely through the room and went straight through the door leading to the front of the house, not hesitating in the slightest.

He considered going farther into the house, to the front door, where Scott was still obviously fighting off someone, or someone's, but instead he found himself heading straight for the basement. If he could get Derek and the other's unlocked from whatever was restraining them while everyone else was busy, they'd have more back up.

There was a light on in the basement as he stood at the top of the stairs, and he could just see Erica's blonde hair at the bottom. He took the steps quickly, practically running down them. When he got to the bottom the anger inside him increased.

Derek was unconscious, head lolling to the side at what must have been an uncomfortable angle. Isaac didn't look any better. Only Erica and Boyd were awake, both sitting on the ground with their arms bound above their heads.

Stiles' put a finger over his lips, indicating that they should stay quiet. He went over to them and tried to see if there was a way out.

"Key?" he whispered, appreciating the loud thunk from upstairs that would muffle his words. Though on second thought that sound was probably his best friend getting the crap beat out of him.

Erica's brown eyes were wide and she was shaking her head, apologizing with her eyes. "I don't know." She mouthed.

Stiles was looking around the cavernous room when the basement door creaked open. He looked around frantically for somewhere to hid, settling for a pile of boxes on the darker side of the room.

He could see them as they dragged Scott downstairs. There was an, admittedly, handsome boy and an older, much less attractive one, carrying his unconscious best friend.

"There's no way he's alone." The younger boy said, looking at his older counterpart.

Stiles let out a quiet sigh of relief. That meant Allison was still inside, biding her time, just like Stiles.

"Search him." The other one ordered. "He's probably got back up waiting on call. Text the Argent girl and his friend, Stiles, or Style, or whatever."

Stiles watched helplessly as they pulled Scott's cellphone from his pockets and quickly pressed a few keys. It was only seconds later that he heard the rev of the engine of his jeep and the soft hum of it pull up near the house.

"I'll go deal with that." The younger boy said, pocketing the cell. "You tie up this one. And be careful. Like I sad, there's no way he's alone."

"But we're not alone, either." A female voice said from behind him and Stiles didn't even get a chance to turn before something slammed into his skull and the world went fuzzy for a second before going completely dark.

* * *

Carrie was nervously tapping her fingers on the wheel of Stiles jeep when the phone in her pocket vibrated. It felt weird, being in Stiles seat, wrong somehow, like she was invading something personal. That was probably because the one thing she associated Stiles with was this jeep.

_Need u 2 come_, the text read. She stared down at it, heart beat picking up.

She twisted the key in the ignition, trying to remember how she'd seen Stiles drive it. She probably should have mentioned that she'd never driven before. The jeep jerked forward at the first press of the gas and she looked down and realized she was in the wrong shift. She changed into drive and tried again.

She got the hang of it as she rounded the corner, but the vehicle still kind of just jerked forward, the movements not exactly smooth.

She stopped just before the house, in front of the book store she'd seen earlier. Her instincts said not to pull up out front, just in case.

Moments later someone opened the front door and she sat up, trying to see who it was. She could tell, just from the illumination from the house, that it was not some friendly. The shape wasn't anyone she recognized immediately and adrenaline coursed through her.

She pulled the tranquilizer gun from her lap and held it in her hands, ready to shoot. At least, she thought she was. It wasn't a gun, she reminded herself. It wouldn't kill anyone. Just temporarily disable them. That's not so bad.

As the figure got closer to the car she realized who it was, a shock of fear going down her spine. She quickly tucked the gun between the seat and the door, careful to keep it concealed but still in her hand, just in case.

Josh tapped lightly on the window, eyebrows raised. She used her not occupied hand to roll it down.

"Can I help you with something?" He asked, his voice low, confident and threatening.

"Not really," she said quickly, plastering a smile on her face. "I'm just waiting for a friend, actually." She lied nervously. "Boyfriend. He'd supposed to meet me out here. He lives just behind those woods. Our parents aren't exactly happy about our relationship." She prattled on. On a whim she leaned into him, almost conspiratorially. "He's kind of a bad boy, you know. That's part of the thrill." She giggled like a school girl. "I just can't stay away from him."

Josh's eyes narrowed slightly at her dumb blonde act and she knew that she didn't fool him for a second. His hand reached through the window and gently tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. She shuddered visibly, terrified, but hoped that he'd take her terror for something else.

"You could do better," he hissed in her ear, and Carrie jerked back, much to his happiness, if the grin on his face was any indication.

She seen it coming, seen his hand reached for the doorknob, and she raised the tranquilizer gun just in time.

The second the door flew open she pulled back on the trigger. The bullet his Josh right in his chest and he staggered backwards, his mouth opening in a perfect o. He angrily grabbed at her just as he fell and his grip on her shirt pulled her out of the car and on top of him as he hit the pavement.

Carrie pushed herself up, trying not to dwell on the fact that she'd just shot someone. It did nothing to slow her beating heart, because she realized that the text hadn't been from Scott. That meant that he was caught, in danger, and so was everyone else.

She steadied her hand on the gun and started towards the house. It was the only thing she _could do._


	19. Boss

Carrie debated on whether or not she should try and move Josh somewhere less obvious, like in a bush beside the house. After trying to tug on his arm, though, she realized she wasn't going to be able to move his deadweight.

Allison hadn't mentioned how long the tranquilizers would work so, just in case, she shot another one into his thigh, surprisingly feeling very little guilt.

"Carrie!" Someone hissed from beside the house.

She whirled, wide eyed, gun raised. It was only Allison, though. She beckoned for Carrie to come to her and she did, giving Josh one last look.

"I heard the jeep and then the front door open." Allison explained, bending down out of sight and pulling Carrie with her. "I was going to shoot him but I thought I'd let you get one in first, just in case."

Carrie was actually grateful that she'd waited. She wasn't exactly sure how she would have reacted, seeing an arrow go through someone, even if that someone was Josh.

"What's going on?" Carrie asked nervously. Something had obviously gone very, very wrong.

"I don't know. I was upstairs when it happened, but Stiles and Scott are MIA. I think they were caught. They're probably in the basement." She said quickly, her eyes slightly watering.

"Hey, they'll be okay." Carrie said quickly, putting a hand on Allison's arm. The second she did the other girl leaned into her slightly and when she blinked she was no longer crying.

"How'd you do that?" She asked, frowning.

"What?"

"I just- you touched me and then-,"

Allison didn't finish her sentence. Her body stiffened but she wasn't looking at the house. She was watching across the street, beside the movie rental place. Carrie could just make out the glowing of red eyes.

"Run!" Allison ordered, dragging Carrie up.

The fact that they were running _towards_ the bad guys for safety wasn't lost on Carrie, but it was a better option then staying out and facing that _thing_. She knew that Allison wasn't a werewolf and if it attacked her the way it had attacked Isaac, she'd be dead.

The back door of the house had a window smashed in and was left open from Stiles. They pushed into the house together, slamming and locking the door behind him.

They made enough to noise to alert who ever was in the house and both girls panicked as footsteps sounded from the basement.

"What do we do?" Carrie hissed.

"Hide." Allison instructed, looking around the neat kitchen. "Cupboards?"

Carrie nodded and they both dived for a place to hide. She ended up inside a dark cupboard, a bottle of bleach pressing into her back. She heard the cupboard beside hers bump closed as Allison slid into place. And then they waited.

"Jeep's out front." A deep voice commented. "Is that-,"

"I knew we shouldn't have let the kid go out on his own!" A female hissed.

"How was I supposed to know?" The man growled back. "He's the best trained hunter on our team and we both know it."

"Yes, but he's still a _kid_!" The girl was furious now, stepping towards the kitchen. Carrie held her breath. "He's easily distracted by…" the girl trailed off.

"By what?"

"Girls. Human girls." The female said slowly and Carrie tried to picture what was happening. She was probably standing in the kitchen doorway, looking at the broken and open door. "The younger one, Scott, he has a human mate, doesn't he? And she's a hunter. She's probably properly trained, smart…" Footsteps approached the cupboards.

_Don't look in the cupboard,_ Carrie prayed._ Don't open the cupboard_.

And she didn't. At least, not Carrie's.

There was a commotion as a cupboard door slammed open, and the female inhaled sharply. "You _shot_ me you little bitch!" She shouted, outraged. Carrie heard Allison's scream and she pushed open her own door, tranquilizer gun at the ready.

The first shot missed, almost grazing Allison, who was being held around the neck by a tall, dark haired woman with her hair pulled back in a tight pony tail. She had a cruel, angry face, and Allison was tugging at her arm, kicking with her legs, but not able to connect any blows.

And the man was starting towards Carrie.

Defend herself, or help Allison, her mind told her. You can only do one. And Allison was starting to turn red, her breathing still cut off, and she made up her mind.

The bullet hit the female in the shoulder, dangerously close to Allison's arm. There was a moment of surprise, as there had been with Josh, and then she fell, dropping Allison in the process.

Allison slid to the floor as the man grabbed Carrie. She was clutching at her throat and breathing heavy but she was alive, and that was what mattered.

Carrie tried to shoot the man but there was just an empty clicking sound when she pulled back the trigger.

"Looks like you're out of bullets." The man commented, smiling. "That's really unfortunate for you."

And then a fist connected with the side of her head and she was out.

* * *

When Stiles came to his head was pounding, of course. He really shouldn't be used to this but, at this point, waking up find himself tied to a chair was kind of normal. Sadly.

He silently cursed himself for not checking every corner of the room when he first got in there. That would have helped. All he knew was that whoever hit him over the head had been hiding pretty well, because none of the werewolves in the room had known she was there, either, or Erica would have warned him.

At least Carrie and Allison were still free, he hoped.

There were thumps upstairs and he heard a girl scream and could only hope that Allison was shooting to kill. They couldn't afford to only knock them out now. Whoever these people were, they were going to keep coming unless they were taken out.

"What's going on?" Stiles demanded, realizing that he wasn't the only one awake. Scott was also conscious, but he was gagged and writhing angrily, trying to break free of his bonds, shooting crazed looks at the floor above them every once in a while.

Erica was just sitting there, quietly, not moving, but awake. She looked so helpless for one and Stiles felt bad for her. Actually, the only person _not_ awake was Derek. He was still hanging off his chains, head tilted, eyes closed. They must have knocked him out with something, must have realized he was too big of a threat awake.

There was another bang upstairs and the sound of someone hitting the floor, hard, and Isaac roared against his restraints, eyes yellow, fangs extended.

"Someone tell me-," Stiles started, but the basement door opened again.

Even Stiles let out an outraged cry as a large man carried Carrie down. She was limp in his arms and there was an already colouring bruise on her temple. There was something so wrong about that, about seeing that wound on her pale skin. Carrie wasn't like the rest of them. She wasn't used to this, and she never would be. She wasn't the type of person who could get hurt and just move on. It was like hitting a child.

"Looks like you're out of soldiers." The man grinned as he pulled up another chair and placed Carrie carelessly on it before going to grab ropes to tie her up. She leaned sideway when he let go and she toppled out of the chair, her head hitting the cement. "We've got the brunette up there too. This one managed to take out two of my team," he spoke as he picked Carrie back up and started tying her. "Good shot on her, but obviously she doesn't have much experience with weapons. Forgot to reload the gun, didn't you, little thing?" He asked, fingers running over the bruise on her face.

"Touch her again and I'll be sure to slowly rip off each of your appendages and shove them down your throat." Isaac ground out. Stiles would have asked him if he was taking threat suggestions from Derek but the given the current situation it wasn't really appropriate. Plus, he felt the same way.

Scott was still raging, even more so at the mention of Allison, and the man actually had the good sense to look slightly worried as he realized he was in a small, confined space with five angry werewolves, all pulling against their strains.

Stiles tried not to pay attention to the rest of it anymore. He was letting his emotions cloud his mind when what he needed to do was find a way out. They obviously underestimated him. He was only bound by rope, just like Carrie, and tied to a chair. If he could just get one of his hands on something sharp, or get close enough to run the ropes up against something, he could get free. He just needed to _find_ something.

There was a table a couple feet behind him and he figured if he worked hard enough he could scrape his way over there. There were all sorts of weapons on the table including, thank god, a knife.

"I'll be right back," the man said slowly. "Nobody move." And he laughed the entire way up the stairs at his own joke.

Erica's eyes met his briefly and then cut to the table, and he nodded, already forming a plan. He was close enough to Carrie's chair that if he could just reach his legs up- he managed to, his feet connecting with the side of her chair, and he pushed, hoping to send himself flying backwards. Instead, he pushed her chair sideways, almost knocking it over and ruining his whole plan.

Okay, that didn't work. He tried jumping in his seat and he managed to scrape an inch towards the table. He tried again, same thing. This was going to take forever and he wasn't sure how much time he had.

Luckily, the man seemed busy with something else upstairs besides just getting Allison, and Stiles managed to make it all the way to the table, the back of his chair pressed against it. He twisted his neck, trying to see over his shoulder. The knife was to his left. He jiggled the chair again, going in that direction.

It was hard as hell to get the knife off the table. It was a bit far back, almost out of his reach. He felt the rope tug against his skin and then the burning of it cutting into him and the wetness of his blood. That did it, though, and his left hand circled around the hilt.

He wasn't an expert at this, but he knew what he needed to do, and that he needed to do it fast. He almost dropped the knife multiple times and it was a miracle that he actually managed it, but suddenly the ropes were fraying, loosening, and he was free. The knife fell to the floor with a clatter and he jerked his head up.

"He's not coming yet," Boyd told him, watching the ceiling. "He's busy helping his partner.

Stiles nodded, glad that someone was still paying attention to upstairs, because everyone else was too busy intently watching him, hope on all their faces.

The first thing he did when out of his chair was search the table for a set of keys. There wasn't one. He could try to pick the locks, he reasoned, picking up the knife again. But he knew that wasn't going to work.

"I've got a bobby pin in my hair." Erica suggested quietly.

"Does that actually work?" Stiles asked, incredulous.

She shrugged. "I don't know!"

But it was their only option. He patted her head until he felt the tiny little thing and he pulled it out. He would have preferred to get Derek out, first, because he was going to be the most useful. He was still unconscious, though, and would be no help.

"Scott," Erica ordered. "Get Scott out first."

Stiles nodded and went over to his friend. He removed the gag from his mouth and Scott licked his chapped, dried blood covered lips. He must have been fighting hard against the gag.

"Let's pray this works, yeah?" He commented, and started fiddling around with the lock.

"Wait for it to click," Scott told him. "When you hit the unlock, it'll click. I'll tell you when."

Stiles nodded and continued to fiddle around with it, praying that the tiny accessory wouldn't break. And then, suddenly, the restraints around Scott's left wrist popped open.

"I knew playing Skyrim would pay off!" Stiles cheered quietly. Scott gave him a quelling look. "What? I'm like, a level 43 locksmith."

Scott rolled his eyes and grabbed the bobby pin for him, managing to unlock his second restraint in half the time Stiles managed to get the first one. Then he worked the ones off his ankles when every conscious head turned towards the ceiling.

"Get back in your chair!" Erica said quickly, panic in her eyes. "Make it look like you're still tied up. Scott, break that window above my head and then hide."

He frowned but didn't have time to ask questions. He did as she said and then hid in the back of the room, by the boxes, where Stiles had been earlier.

The man returned, this time with the female who had knocked Stiles out. Allison was in his arms this time. Both hunters froze when they noticed Scott gone.

"Where is he?" The man asked, looking between them, then at the broken window. "You really expect me to believe he ran? You're pack. Packs don't abandon each other."

"He's not pack!" Erica spat at him. "Scott's omega. He doesn't care about us."

Stiles tried not to move at all, knowing that the only thing keeping his restraints looking normal was the way he tightly gripped them behind his back.

The female laughed. "You hear that, Jake?" She smirked at Erica. "Even the other 'wolves don't want to help these ones. Your friend was smart," she told Erica. "Too bad he didn't manage to get any of you free in his escape, because no one is left to save you now, are they?"

There was a shrill sound as someone's phone rang. The female dug into her pocket and pulled it out, flipping it open.

"Hello." She said, still grinning away. "Yes, we've got them. Five. Wait, four. One escaped." He grin faltered as the person on the other end spoke. "Here? Why? Yes, I understand. We'll be waiting."

She looked a little terrified as she turned to her partner. "Get Josh." She ordered. "He's coming."

The man nodded seriously and hurried up the stairs, transferring a still unconscious Allison to the floor. When he was gone the female went about tying her up, too.

"Who is coming?" Stiles couldn't help but ask.

The female turned and there was no malice in her face this time, just a slightly worried puckering of her lips. "The boss, and trust me, I'm going to seem like a Disney Princess compared to him."

* * *

Neither of the older hunters returned downstairs after that. Stiles was feeling continuously restless, wanting to do something, fight, attack, but both Erica and Boyd kept shaking their heads at him, obviously guessing his game plan. Isaac didn't do anything but watch Carrie, waiting, as was Stiles, for her to wake up.

Josh came downstairs, his moves sluggish but still very much conscious. He took one look at the rest of them and then stepped towards Carrie, hand raised as if to slap her, and then thought the better of it. It was as if she could sense the coming threat, though, and her eyes slowly blinked open.

"You surprised me, blondie." Josh commented, grabbing a chair and sliding it up close to Carrie's. "I didn't think you had it in you. Looks like my partner got you pretty good, though, didn't he?"

Carrie jerked away from him as he reached out to touch her face, just as the other hunter had done. Isaac growled in warning.

"Right, so this one belongs to you, then?" Josh asked, looking at Isaac.

"I don't _belong_ to anyone." Carrie told him, as much anger in her tiny voice as she could muster.

And all the while Stiles had to sit there, unmoving.

Josh rolled his eyes and stood up, obviously bored with her. Five pairs of eyes followed him as he walked towards where Derek was hanging.

"Big one still knocked out, huh?" He commented, grinning, before going towards the table behind Stiles. Stiles prayed he wouldn't notice that Stiles' hands were untied, but he was obviously too busy focusing on something else. When he returned to Derek's side there was something small in his hand, a syringe. "Wolfsbane." He explained, not looking at any of them. "Diluted enough not to kill him," he said, pressing the needle against Derek's arm. "But more then enough to cause agonizing pain. That should wake him right up."

It was the hardest thing Stiles had ever done in his life, staying in that chair. Everything in him screamed to get up, attack, protect, as Josh injected the wolfsbane into Derek's arm. Derek's body jerked and his eyes flew open, blood red, teeth snapping at Josh. And then came the howling. That's the only way to describe it. Derek howled in pain as his body squirmed and tried to fight off the wolfsbane.

Stiles was gripping the rope so hard it cut into his hands and tears formed in his eyes. He couldn't _do_ anything. Even if he attacked now, Josh would only have to scream before the other hunters came running.

And that's when he remember Scott. Suddenly his best friend was out from behind the boxes, the gun Stiles had brought with him in his hand.

"Back up and don't talk or make and sudden movements." Scott ordered, loading the chamber with a click. "Or I shoot you in the head."

Josh lifted his hands above his head and turned, but somehow he was still grinning. "You think shooting me is going to save you?" He asked, voice low, knowing Scott would shoot if footsteps started towards the basement. "You're all going to be dead, anyways. All of you. Even the humans."

Scott hit him upside the head with the gun and there was a crack as the metal hit his skull and he fell. Scott caught him in outstretched arms, which was a good thing because the sound of a body hitting the floor would definitely alert someone.

Derek was still writhing and Scott had the bobby pin out again. He looked like he wasn't sure who to save first and then in the end decided to skip Derek, just as Stiles had, and started breaking Erica free instead.

"Go!" He said as soon as she was free. "Get Allison's dad, or someone, anyone to help us."

"You can't go outside!" Carrie said suddenly, her voice loud enough to make everyone flinch. "It's outside. The thing. The beast." She looked frantic. "That's why Allison and I got caught. It started towards us, the house was the only safe option."

Erica flexed her aching muscles and took the clip from Scott to get Boyd free.

Stiles really tried to pay attention to them, he did, but he couldn't. He couldn't focus on anything but Derek and the agony he must have been in. There was almost a painful tug in his stomach as he watched the other boy twitch.

He was out of his chair before anyone could tell him to sit down.

"Hey," he put a hand on Derek's cheek. "Derek, come on, man, you're tougher then this. You'll be fine."

Derek growled at him. "Can't-," his voice was strangled and his head jerked to the left so suddenly Stiles was surprised he didn't snap his own spine.

"Untie her!" Stiles ordered Scott, pointing at Carrie. "She can help, untie her!"

Scott looked confused but obliged and then Carrie was standing beside him, shaking her head. "I can't do anything!"

"Yes, you can. You've been doing it for a while now, Derek told me. Just focus on him and calming him down!"

"I-," she looked in Stiles eyes, ready to protest, but decided the better of it. "Okay." She said quietly, and put a gentle hand on Derek's shoulder.

No one could deny the sudden change in him. His body went still and his eyes widened. His chest heaved and he blinked slowly.

"Still hurts," he ground out through his canines. "But I can- I can't think."

Carrie was looking shocked, not understand what she had done, but Stiles didn't think there was really time to explain that one right now.

"Glad to have you back," Stiles said casually, but he was genuinely sincere about it.

"You guys need to get _out_." He ordered.

"No, what we need is for Scott to unlock you." He said, waiting for his best friend to come over.

Scott was giving him a panicked look, though.

"What?" Stiles demanded. "We don't exactly have time-,"

"It broke." Erica explained, holding up a tiny fragment of the bobby pin. Boyd was still have restrained. "We can't."

"Scott, take Stiles and get him _out of here_." Derek said suddenly, all the power of an alpha in his voice, and even Scott coward a bit.

"If we go outside, that thing is going to tear us apart." Carrie spoke up, hand still on Derek. "We have to kill it before we go out there."

Derek rolled his eyes. "A car's coming." He said slowly.

Even Stiles could hear the sound of tires pulling up out front. "Shit," he mumbled. "What-,"

"Get back in your chair." Scott told him and Carrie. "Chances are they won't hurt you two. Erica, come with me." He said, gesturing to his place behind the boxes.

The upstairs door opened and two pairs of footsteps entered the house. He could faintly hear the sound of muffled speaking and Derek let out a hiss of breath that sounded a lot like, "Werewolf."

"There's something with them." Isaac added, eyes once again on Carrie but he was speaking to everyone. "But something's wrong with him. It smells like-,"

"Shut up!" Derek ordered. His eyes were still red and every now and then his body would jerk again and his face would scrunch up with pain. The wolfsbane was still doing its number on him. "I can't- I can't make it out-,"

Two people started down the stairs and Stiles knew instinctively that it wasn't the two hunters they'd already met. The foosteps sounded different.

And then two men came into the room, one a statuesque man who had to be in his mid forties, with cross cropped dark red hair and cruely narrowed blue eyes, and the other one looked- wild. His hair was long and tangled and there was various twigs and leaves in it. His clothes were ripped and muddy, and his eyes were wrong.

There was something missing in them. Something humane.

* * *

**This is my longest update yet, so, hope you enjoy! And thank you all for the lovely reviews. You guys are awesome! :)- C**

And Carrie started to scream, shrill and piercing.


	20. Killer

Carrie was up and out of her chair faster than anyone could warn her not to. She wasn't even sure why she did it, exactly, but one minute she was sitting down, holding the cut rope in place, and the next she was pressed against the wall, hand clutching the side of Isaac's shirt as her screams echoed through the room.

The man with the matted, long hair watched her, his expressionless eyes following every movement. And she knew those eyes. They were the eyes of the thing that killed her mother. The thing that had tried to kill Isaac.

Every eye in the room seemed to move between her and the man but she was the only one who had made the connection, apparently.

The man grinned and took a step towards her and Isaac barred his teeth, a low growl sounding through out the room.

"Not now, Tom." The red haired man said, a slight smile playing on his too-thin lips. "If you behave you can have the girl afterwards."

"No," the long haired man, Tom, ground out. He narrowed his eyes at Carrie. "Don't want."

The red haired man's blue eyes suddenly lit up. "So this is the one you told me about?" He gave Carrie a full, warm smile. "This is absolutely delightful."

Suddenly feral-looking Tom wasn't the scariest person in the room. Something about the redhead's look made Carrie squirm, as if he was mentally dissecting her, cutting her open to see what made her tick.

"We really do have to thank Jake and Melanie for this haul." He commented, looking around the room. "I see three full werewolves _and_ an Innocent. Lovely, absolutely lovely."

She noted that he didn't comment on the two empty restraints where Erica and Scott had been and had to force herself not to look towards the boxes where they were hiding.

"Oh, how rude, I've forgotten the introductions." The man said suddenly, looking genuinely apologetic. "My name is Carlos Redfern and this is Tom Markson, but I'm sure you're all already acquainted, yes?"

Isaac's body went rigid beside her as the words sunk in.

Carlos clucked his tongue when no one responded. "I apologize for the rather… barbaric way you've been handled but, in my line of work, I've learned that it's best to deal with werewolves when they're… unarmed, if you will."

"I don't intend to kill you." Carlos continued, making sure to meet the eyes of every werewolf in the room as he spoke. "Well, the humans, maybe, though I had hoped to avoid that." He said regretfully. "Anyways, I'm not doing this to be cruel, or murderous, though my partners upstairs surely feel differently. You see, I am doing this for the sake of science and the evolution of the werewolf gene." He smiled that creepy, should-be-nice-but-is-actually-spine-chilling smile again. "You're already acquainted with my work though, aren't you? I know my employees have been using my hallucinatory tranquilizers on you. And then, of course there's Tom. My greatest project yet, aren't you, Tom?"

Tom grunted in reply but didn't say anything.

"He's quite marvellous. I have been told that a few of you have seen his changed form, yes? Remarkable, isn't it? He's so much more powerful than all of you. And you will all be like that when I'm done, too. I'm giving you a gift here. I'm going to make you the best you can possibly be and, in return, you're going to help me revolutionize the world!"

Carrie stared at him, blinking. He couldn't possibly be serious. This whole mad scientist thing was just, well, mad. Werewolves? Okay, she could eventually get used to that. Maybe. But the kidnapping and now the evil mastermind, explaining his plan to all of them it was- it was just unbelievable.

"Dude, you watch way to many cartoons." Stiles commented dryly. "This whole 'reveal the evil plan to the captive' thing is so overdone. Not original at all."

Carlos blinked in mild confusion. "I'm sorry, you are?"

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Seriously? What, is it because I'm not a werewolf? Humanist bastard." That earned him a chuckled from Derek, who watched the other boy half lidded eyes. Carrie knew that he was still in pain from the wolfsbane. It was obvious in the way that his hands were clenched at his sides and his chuckle died quickly in his throat.

"So, what are you going to do with us, then, huh? Because if you actually _are_ going to kill me, can you hurry up? This chair is like, super uncomfortable and I'm pretty sure my ass fell asleep an hour ago." Stiles went on, sounding just as casual as he usually did. "And can you maybe not use the werewolf or a knife? Being stabbed is definitely on my list of things I never ever want to happen to me. It just seems like it would be _really_ not fun, you know?"

Carlos frowned. "Do you _want_ to die?"

Stiles snorted. "Uh, no? But I also don't want to sit here while you poke and prod me with needles or whatever it is your creepy-ass is planning on doing so, like I said, might as well just get it over with."

"We could have you turned, you know." Carlos told him, walking in Stiles direction. He circled Stiles chair, hopefully not noticing that his ropes were untied. "You could be just as powerful as your friends here are going to be."

"You're not the first creepy dude to offer that to me. Like I said, unoriginal."

As Carlos got back to Stiles front, Stiles suddenly jerked off his chair, a knife glinting in his hands. He went straight for Carlos' chest and would have stabbed right through it, too, if Tom hadn't gotten there first. He moved so fast that his movements had been hard to follow, but one minute he'd been standing on the other side of the room, the next he was putting a strong hand on Stiles arm, wrestling the knife from his grip.

He kicked the knife over a bit and it stopped when it hit the bottom of Carrie's chair. She made sure no one noticed her notice it, and then sucked in a deep breath and pushed off the wall and away from Isaac.

"Don't," Isaac warned, his hand reaching out as if to pull her back. The restraints didn't allow him to move enough, though, and his hand hung their limply as he gave her a pleading look.

Carrie sat back down in the chair she had been tied up in, slumping into it as if she was too tired to hold herself up anymore. Playing it up, she pressed a hand to the wound on her temple and groaned. That actually wasn't acting. Her eyes watered as she gently prodded the bruise.

She'd never really been hurt before. Not like that. Sure, she'd fallen down, scraped her knees, cut her elbows, things like that. She'd never been _punched_ before and it had been as painful as it was surprising.

What was most shocking, though, was the fact that Tom eyed her warily as he walked past her, making sure to keep a few feet between them.

"Refuse, then," Carlos told Stiles, who was back in his seat again, this time because Carlos promised that Tom would rip his throat out if he moved. "You have that choice, I'm not going to force it on you. Her, on the other hand," he turned to Carrie. "I'm very sorry, young lady, but you don't get the same courtesy . I haven't managed to track down someone like you in years. Tom?"

Tom growled loudly. "No."

Carlos looked disappointed. "Tom, please, you know that there isn't a choice in the matter. Shackle her first."

Carrie wasn't really paying attention to what they were saying. She was too busy discretely bending down to pick up the knife. Her hand circled over the cold metal and she drew it up, hiding it I the long sleeve of her shirt.

And then Tom was pulling her up and dragging her to the wall and the knife fell out of her grip and clanked to the floor once again.

"Let me _go_!" She ordered, pulling against him. It was no use. He held strong, even when she let her body go limp.

It was so easy, painfully so, for him to get the first shackle around her wrist. She kicked at him in retaliation but even when her foot connected hard with his leg, he didn't react. He just continued to shackle her to the wall.

She went for the final blow, the one she figured would work, and she hit him right between the legs. He was supposed to drop or at least lose his grip on her. Nothing happened, though. Nothing at all.

"Stronger than you think." Tom whispered in her ear.

Carlos had a look of barely contained delight on his face. "Sadly we can't do this back at the lab but I fear that moving the four of you might give you a chance in following your friends and escaping. Such a shame, such a crude place this is, really."

"What are you going to do to her?" Stiles asked and for the first time he didn't sound above it all. His voice actually shook.

"Turn her." Carlos said simply.

Carrie's blood turned to ice in her veins. "You can't-,"

"No, but Tom can." Carlos told her.

Stiles and Derek exchanged a look and she wanted to ask what it meant but she couldn't. She was shaking so hard her teeth chattered.

When she was younger her mom still visited her grandparents. They lived in Canada, and she always went to see them on Christmas. Winter there had been cold and when she was five she had the bright idea of going outside Christmas Eve to meet Santa. She stood out in the cold for so long that every part of her was ached and frozen.

That's how she felt now.

"Careful not to swallow any of her blood." Carlos instructed as Tom leaned down towards her once again.

She expected him to go for the throat but instead she felt a pair of wet, rough lips press against her wrist, just beneath the shackle. She wanted to squeeze her eyes closed but for some reason she couldn't shut them. That's when she noticed Scott and Erica. They both leapt out from behind the boxes, quickly making their way towards her, but they didn't make it. Before she knew it the lips had been replaced by something sharper and there was a sudden burning sensation in her arm.

Tom was pulled back roughly by the two werewolves. He ripped out of their grasp and jumped to the other side of the room, where he wiped furiously at his mouth with his dirty shirt before circling in a defensive position.

She tried to focus on the fight, praying that neither Scott nor Erica got hurt, but she couldn't. All her attention was on her arm, which had started to ache. It was like that time she'd gotten a needle at the doctor and it had felt like she was bruised up her whole arm for the entire day. It slowly made its way from her wrist and upwards before spreading out across her shoulder and going through her whole body.

Out of the side of her eyes she noticed Stiles get up and grab the knife again and start towards Carlos as Tom was too busy fighting. The red haired man seemed to realize he wasn't protected at the moment and shouted for the hunters upstairs.

Tom wasn't human any longer. He had taken on his wolf form again, the large, terrifying shape sliding into her vision every once and a while.

She saw Stiles stab the knife into Carlos' throat. There was an awful lot of blood when he pulled the knife back, and she was genuinely shocked that Stiles had it in him to do it. Then again, maybe she wasn't, really. There had been something dangerous in him since the moment they'd seen the others get kidnapped.

The other hunters ran down the stairs, weapons at the ready, and their eyes went from Carlos, covering his throat and coughing up blood, to the beast in the room. They seemed to decide right then what side they were on and started firing bullets and arrows at the 'wolf.

"The second you're free, get upstairs and get into the jeep." Stiles ordered as he sidled up beside her. He had a pair of keys in his hand and she didn't make the connection until she was free and running up the stairs. He'd gotten them off Carlos' body. Dead body.

Cries had been sounding through the room since the fight broke out, but she was halfway up the stairs when a new one reached her ears. It wasn't the angry fighting noises of werewolves- it was Stiles.

She ran back down and he was leaning against the wall beside Derek, who was cutting his own wrists trying to get free. His shirt was soaked and it took her a moment to realize why. There was a cut across his chest, like someone had taken a razorblade to the shirt and skin below.

There was a sudden rage deep inside her, stronger than anything she'd ever felt before. The room seemed to darker and took on a red tinge and her eyes narrowed in on the large gun sitting on the table. She was across the room, the weapon in her hand, in seconds. No one paid attention to her even a she lifted it, aiming down the sight at the pile of werewolves clawing at each other.

She waited for the right moment and somehow she just _knew_ when to shoot. The hunters couldn't get the right aim, not with him moving around so much, but for some reason her eyes had no issue adjusting to his quick movements. She could get him.

And she did, the bullet hitting Tom straight in the head. It wasn't a perfect shot, not directly in the middle of his forehead, but more off to the left a little. Still, he dropped, all the colour draining from his eyes and slowly he morphed back into human form.

The second the bullet hit him something warm crawled through her body and she felt flushed all over.

She did that. Killed him. That bloodied, dead mess on the floor was there because of _her_. The werewolves and hunters stopped fighting and turned to her and she kept the gun raised , shifting her aim between both the hunters.

"Step back." She ordered, but the voice didn't really sound like her. It didn't sound weak and scared, like she ought to be, but strong, powerful. She wanted to smile. And rip through things. Maybe starting with the man for hitting her. She wanted to claw at his throat and laugh as his blood leaked through her fingers. They were still fingers, after all. For some reason her body hadn't brought on the change. Maybe it wasn't something that happened immediately. Maybe it was after the full moon? She wasn't sure. Didn't really care.

When no one listened she lowered the aim of the gun just enough that when she pulled back the trigger the second time, the bullet went through the muscle of Jake's leg and he cried out.

"I said back up." She told him, smiling. "Now I suggest you do it this time or you and Tom are going to have matching wounds." Both hunters did as she said, backing up until they hit the wall. The girl was right beside Isaac and she cut her eyes to him but at the moment Carrie was obviously the bigger threat.

And then the gun dropped from her hands and she took her own step back, eyes wide. A whimper escaped her mouth and she covered it with her hand. "Oh god," she moaned. "Oh god, I-"

Her freak out would have to wait. Stiles made a sound from the other side of the room and she felt something constrict inside her. He was cut badly. Really badly. He needed to get to a hospital _now_.

"Take him!" She yelled, turning to Scott. "Take him! Go!"

He ran to his best friends side and hauled him up in his arms. He was up the stairs and out of sight in seconds.

Once the threat of Stiles death was gone, she felt everything in her give way and she collapsed to the floor, putting her head between her knees, trying to stop the bile rising in her throat. And also trying not to look at the dead body. The body of the guy she _killed_.

"No, no, no." She said over and over again, not looking up. She couldn't. People moved around her but no one touched her, no one even approached her.

The material of her jeans was soaked through with tears by the time someone finally approached her.

A warm hand pressed t her shoulder but she couldn't lift her head, couldn't have him look into her eyes, not after what she'd done. He seemed to realize that, too, and instead crouched down and put both arms around her as she continued to sob, not speaking.

"What do we do with these three?" She heard Erica ask.

"I did that." Carrie said slowly, speaking into Isaac's chest. "I killed him."

"No, you saved us." Isaac said firmly. "You did what you had to do. If you hadn't, Stiles would probably still be on that floor right now, only dead."

She wanted to agree, to justify her actions, but she couldn't. Whether it was necessary or not, she had still killed someone. What gave her the right to chose her life over anyone else's? To decide who it was okay to kill and who it was okay to save?

Her gut twisted as she remember that something inside her _liked it. _

Carrie shuddered and lifted her head. Her eyes adjusted to the light quickly and she blinked up at Isaac. "It's okay." he said quietly.

She almost laughed at this, but she just couldn't. Instead she tilted her head away from his, looking at the wall. "It's not ever going to be okay again."

* * *

**I have the next chapter done already, but it's a bit shorter than this one. Spoiler: There's two kisses in it. Okay, one kiss and half a kiss. Still counts! I'll have it up tomorrow, or possibly later on tonight. :) - C**


	21. Chapped Lips

Carrie allowed Isaac to help her up off the floor. Everyone else was already gone, except for the two hunters, who were chained up against the wall in the restraints that had earlier held Erica and Isaac.

She tried not to meet their eyes and tucked herself under Isaac's arm as they walked, making herself seem smaller than she was.

Stiles' jeep was no longer out front and she let out a sigh of relief and hoped to god that he got to the hospital and was going to okay.

"We need to tell his dad." She said suddenly.

Isaac didn't stop his pace. He pressed a hand to the middle of her pack and gently pushed her forward along with him. "Scott already has, most likely. I guarantee he's already at the hospital. Right now we need to get you back to his house before his dad goes home and realizes you're missing. He doesn't need anymore stress."

Carrie didn't answer but she let him guide her through the darkened streets. It was crazy, how everything still looked the same. There were people, still in their beds, sleeping and enjoying their peaceful lives. They would wake up in the morning and be none the wiser to what had happened on that little street in the middle of the night.

And that was so impossible that it made Carrie's breath catch in her throat. "What's going to happen?" She asked quietly. "You know, after the- the bite?"

Isaac was quiet for a few minutes. "We wait until the full moon. Either you'll change, or you'll die." He said slowly. "Sometimes people- reject the bite. It kills them. It could happen to you."

That should have shocked her, really, but at this point she felt to hollow to even really react. She just nodded in acceptance.

"Where are you going afterward?" She asked as they walked down Stiles street. "Home? The warehouse?"

Isaac shrugged. "I don't know."

She really wanted to ask him to stay with her but two things were holding her back. First, the fact that it wasn't her house, and she had no right to invite anyone else over without Sheriff Stilinski's approval, and second, she really didn't want to bear the embarrassment if he said no.

But he followed her inside the house anyways when she opened the door, not even bothering to pause or ask if it was okay. She didn't say anything, just went straight up the stairs and to her bedroom, Isaac at her heels the entire time.

"What?" She asked, pausing in the middle of the guest bedroom. She felt suddenly self conscious, standing next to a bed with Isaac's eyes on her.

"Just making sure you get into bed safely." He said with a smile.

"Are you actually going to tuck me in?" She almost cracked a smile, but she was too exhausted, emotionally and physically, to do so.

When Isaac didn't move she figured he was going to, and grabbed a pair of payjamas from her drawer and then ducked out of the room. She changed quickly and then walked past Isaac again and slipped into bed.

Isaac shut the light off and then walked over to her. He leaned down and she wondered for a second if he was going to kiss her. If it had been any other day, she would have wanted him to. Even now a part of her wanted it, but mostly she just couldn't deal with that right now, on top of everything else. He seemed to sense that and instead his lips grazed her cheek gently and then he was pushing open the window and disappearing.

Carrie lay in bed, wanting to know if Stiles was okay, wanting to know if everyone else was okay, and mostly wanting to be okay herself. But that wasn't going to happen, so she just closed her eyes and prayed that she'd be able to sleep without seeing Tom laying on the floor, a bullet hole in his head.

* * *

Something you learn from having everyone around you die is that caring about people is not a good idea. People die. People get hurt. People break your heart. That was why Derek stopped getting emotionally invested in anyone.

And then stupid Stiles, with his constant sarcastic quips and his ability to talk for five minutes straight about the stupidest things and his unfortunate habit of always being at the wrong place at the wrong time, had to change that. He just _had_ to get under Derek's skin. Had to make Derek care about him just a little.

Or maybe it was all just that ridiculous bond. That was easier to admit to then to admit that he actually _cared_ about _Stiles_.

Whatever it was, caring or the bound, was pushing Derek through the hospital doors, anyways.

Scott and Erica had been the ones to take on that mutant werewolf but _they_ were fine. Of course it was only _Stiles_ who was badly injured. Damn it.

Derek didn't stop in his tracks when he noticed Stiles' dad waiting outside a room. He just kept on walking, straight past him, until the sheriff put a hand on his arm and he froze. Derek considered turning around and growling at the man but that really wouldn't help right now. He looked about as broken as Derek was denying he felt, and so he refrained from making it worse.

"Is he okay?" Derek ground out. He knew that chances are, the man would yell at him, force him to leave, or ask why he even cared.

"He'll live." Is all the man said.

Derek nodded and almost collapsed into the hospital chair. Everything in him ached to his deepest core from the wolfsbane injection. He hadn't even thought about it at all on his way over here, though. All that had mattered was making sure Stiles was okay, the rest could wait. Now that he knew, it caught back up to him and he suppressed a groan.

"Is anyone going to tell me what happened to my son?" Stiles' dad asked after a few moments, his back to Derek.

"I don't know what happened." Derek lied.

The sheriff's shoulders hunched up and his body went ridged. "Then how did you know he was hurt, huh?"

Derek paused for a second, trying to think of a legitimate reason. "Scott called me."

"I still don't know why you're here." He commented, turning to face Derek. "Last time I checked my son and you weren't close. In fact, he'd be in big trouble if I found out you were."

"We're not." Derek was just spewing lie after lie. "I'm here because Scott wanted me here."

The disbelief was evident in Stilinski's eyes but he didn't push farther. He looked like he didn't really want to know. Derek was glad because he was too tired to argue or lie anymore.

He pressed his head against the wall and somehow managed to drift asleep.

Derek awoke a while later to someone calling his name. He knew the second his eyes were open that Stiles' father was gone. His scent was still there but it was old. He must have left at least an hour ago.

"I know you're out there." Stiles called groggily. His voice was so hoarse that it made Derek's stomach clench.

He stood up and pushed open the hospital door. The scent of Stiles' blood hit him hard and his nose wrinkled in revulsion and his wolf bristled angrily.

Stiles looked paler than usual, the only colour on his face was the red in his cheeks and his lips.

"'d you sleep out there?" Stiles asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Derek didn't really answer but he made a low sound in his throat.

"Didn't know you cared so much." Stiles joked, trying to smile but he just ended up wincing. "Ouch, yep, still hurts." He muttered, gently probing his abdomen. "But hey, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, or whatever."

"You almost died." Derek said, anger suddenly surging up in him. "And you're making jokes?"

"Almost," Stiles repeated. "I didn't die. I'm fine."

_No, you're _not_ fine,_ Derek wanted to snap, but he stopped himself. "You're ridiculous." He said instead.

"Yeah, and you're just a big ball of werewolf worry, aren't you?" Stiles teased. "Because you actually care, don't you?"

Derek rolled his eyes. "I thought maybe having your stomach almost ripped out would make you shut up but apparently not."

"What's the point of near death experiences if you can't get a few good jokes out of it?" Stiles countered.

Derek took a step towards Stiles, kind of like that time in his bedroom, except he was doing it of his own will now. Okay, maybe a bit of it was pushing from the bond, but he wasn't forced into it this time.

"If you almost die again I will kill you. You understand that?" He said to Stiles.

Stiles opened his mouth to say something but Derek just dipped his head down and pressed his lips against Stiles' chapped ones. The bond pulled at him, making him want to do a lot more than just give Stiles chaste kisses but he forced himself to pull back, and then he was out of the room faster than Stiles could open his mouth to tell him to wait.

* * *

**This is kind of a short chapter again after those two pretty long ones, but I felt like we needed something a bit lighter after those last two, so here we are. :D - C**


	22. Unexpected Visitor

When Stiles' mom died it wasn't a sudden thing. It wasn't like one minute she was there, and the next she was dead. No, she died slowly. He and his father got to witness her waste away, right in front of their eyes, right in the hospital that Stiles was now stuck in for the next week, at least.

And he hated it. Hated the smell of the place, hated the uncomfortable beds, hated the nurses who gave you sad eyes while smiling cheerfully.

Also there was the fact that all he wanted to do was get out of bed, but every time he tried someone pushed him right back down, whether it was Scott, his dad, a nurse, or Derek. It was getting pretty freaking tiring.

"If I don't get out of this room I am going to stab myself in the face with my fork." Stiles mumbled as the nurse delivered his lunch.

"It's plastic, sweetie." She told him, still smiling. "It would be more irritating than deadly."

"Great, thanks." Stiles ground out, rolling his eyes as he spoke.

"You have a visitor. Do you want to wait until after you eat, or-,"

"No, no!" Stiles said quickly. "Send them in _now_."

The nurse nodded and disappeared, leaving the tray of sub par food on his side table. Maybe he should add starving to the list of reasons why this _sucks_.

"Hey," Carrie smiled as she walked in. "How're you doing?"

Stiles gulped. He hadn't expected Carrie. He'd been in here two days already and she hadn't stopped by. He had wanted to call her, initially, but he was afraid to. Not because he was afraid she would hate him or be angry at him for inadvertently dragging her into everything, but for other reasons. Mostly to do with the bite on her arm that he couldn't see right now because of her long sleeved shirt, but that he knew was there underneath.

He had to talk to Derek about this. He had to do some freaking research, too, actually. Because that book said that if Carrie turned, because of her genes or whatever it was, she would become a monster. And she'd never be able to turn back to herself.

"How are you feeling?" She asked when he didn't answer her. She walked up to the bed and sat on the edge.

"I've been better." He sighed and leaned against the back of the bed. "How about you?"

"I'm not in a hospital bed, so, I think I'm doing alright." Her voice cracked a little and she looked away. "Oh, I forgot!" She dug into her coat and pulled out a small cardboard box he hadn't notice she'd been hiding. "I brought you food."

He stared at the small, greasy box, his mouth watering. "Have I ever told you that I love you more than anything else on the planet?" He asked, grabbing for it.

Inside was two small pieces of pizza. The smell of cheese and pepperoni and grease wafted up and he sighed, inhaling deeply. Stiles grabbed the first piece and start eating, not bothering to try and keep up conversation. Carrie watched him, an amused smile on her face.

"Don't like the hospital food?" She asked when he started on the second piece.

Stiles shook his head and swallowed. "No, and plus, I don't eat pizza often. I try to eat healthy, you know, set a good example for my dad but oh god this is so _good_," he told her before stopping to eat again. When he was done he grinned, for the first time feeling completely content in the hospital room. Now all he needed was a coke, maybe Derek to rub his shoulders… Just the thought of that made him grin wider.

"You're dad's been a mess." Carrie said quietly, effectively cutting off that fantasy. When she turned to him her eyes were large and concerned. "He's deadest on finding the thing that attacked you."

Stiles sighed, running a hand over his face. "I'm not really surprised, to be honest. Just- take care of him while I'm here, okay? Make sure he eats and stuff."

She nodded. "You know I will."

And he does, which is why he's so grateful for her right then, but that only made him feel worse for what happened to her. Some people didn't deserve to have the heartache, and Carrie was one of them.

"Derek's in the waiting room, you know." She said suddenly, smiling. "I think he's been out there for a while…"

"What? Why didn't he come in?"

She shrugged. "I think he knew that I was coming and wanted to give us time to talk, maybe?" Her smile turned into a grin. "So are you too-,"

"Will you get him?" Stiles cut her off before the heat could rise to his face.

She nodded and got up but not before giving him a knowing look. "I've got a job interview tomorrow but I'll sneak you in more food afterwards, okay?"

Not a minute later Derek walked into the room, shutting the door carefully behind him as he did so. There was no smile-filed greeting or secret pizzas with Derek. He just stood there, looking gruff and stoic like he usually did.

"Do you plan on camping outside my room my entire stay?" Stiles asked finally, raising his eyebrows.

Derek shrugged, not even bothering to deny it. "None of the nurses seem to mind."

Stiles snorted and ignored the slight pan of jealousy that coursed through him for no reason. "Of course they don't."

"How are you feeling?" Derek asked, leaning against the far wall.

"Same as I did yesterday. Bored, annoyed, not really in any pain because I'm on so many painkillers that you might get high if you stand close to me." Stiles said with a sigh. "I just want to get out of here. You realize that we have to deal with Carrie getting bitten, right?"

Derek nodded. "We might have to kill her."

"Woah, woah, woah. Hold up. We can't just-,"

"You hard what Deaton said. I went back to talk to him more about it and he said that when she turns, she'll be rogue. It's like when Scott first changed, and he couldn't control himself at all, except she won't be able to find an anchor. She'll just keep attacking people."

"There's got to be a way to fix this." Stiles said, determined. He was not going to be responsible for Carrie_ dying_.

"And if there's not, we kill her." Derek said simply. There was no black and white. Maybe there wouldn't be for Stiles, either, except this was _his fault_. All of it. He should have told her to stay home and went out to look for Derek and the others on his own. But instead he had told her to get in the jeep, and now he had to deal with the consequences.

Suddenly Derek was across the room, as his side. "You can't save everyone." He said quietly.

"I know that, I'm not Scott. I don't want to save everyone, just the ones I'm responsible for. And just so you know, this side of you is kind of weird." Stiles narrowed his eyes. "You're being nice and I don't know how to react to it."

"Shut up," Derek grumbled, rolling his eyes.

"Why don't you _make_ me?" Stiles shot back.

And he did, bending down to press his lips firmly but gently against Stiles. Stiles tried not to act surprised because it wasn't exactly the first time, but he heard himself gasp and then he put a hand on Derek's arm, trying to pull him closer. Derek just jerked back, breaking contact.

"So you've decided to give into this whole bond thing, huh?" Stiles couldn't help but ask, grinning.

"I haven't ruled out killing you." Derek told him, and Stiles shut his mouth quickly before he realized that Derek was _joking_. He was making an honest to god, genuine joke, if that slight tilt of his lips was any indication.

"How about you leave the humour to me in this relationship?" Stiles teased, hitting Derek's side with his knee before realizing what he'd just said. He hadn't mean that they were _in_ a relationship. He meant-

Derek didn't seem to of picked up on it, though, he just rolled his eyes again as he usually did in response to whatever Stiles said, and Stiles let out a breath of relief.

* * *

Three days later Stiles was allowed to go home as long as he was sure to take his antibiotics and check in with the doctor once a week for the next month to make sure the wounds on his chest and stomach were healing properly and weren't infected.

"I'm free!" Stiles exclaimed as he leaned on his dad's shoulder while they walked out to the patrol car.

"You weren't even in there a week." His dad pointed out.

Stiles shrugged. "It was like prison in there, minus the cool weapons made out of plastic cutlery."

"Well it's good you're going to be back. Carrie got a job, you know." And he did because she came and told him two days ago when she found out. "And she's apparently decided to spend every penny she has on food. She cooks like there's a family of ten to feed. The fridge is stock full of leftovers, and it's all that healthy stuff you like to eat."

Stiles resisted the urge to laugh. "You know it tastes good."

"Yeah, well…" he sighed. "She's a good kid. I like having someone around who actually cleans, unlike a certain _someone."_

Stiles' dad let go of him as they reached the car and Stiles hobbled around to the passenger side. He winced a little as he slid in, his stomach burning for just a second. "You don't get to nag me, I'm wounded."

"If you're well enough to leave the hospital you're well enough to nag at." His dad said, putting the car in drive.

Carrie made dinner again that night. She made lasagne, special for Stiles' homecoming. It turned out pretty good, considering that she'd never cooked with low-fat cheese before. She was worried it wouldn't melt the same, but it had, coming out of the oven bubbling and smelling delicious.

Stiles kept up a constant chatter during dinner, and his leg shook under the table the entire time. He'd been so restless in the hospital and was just glad to be out, out of that room, out of that bed. He had things to do, like researching a solution to what he had started in his mind calling The Carrie Dilemma. It was nice to just be at home in his own dinning room, though.

"I can't believe you got a job." He commented with his mouth full. "You're making me look bad here."

Carrie blushed. "I just want a way to contribute to the house. I want to pay rent if I'm going to be staying here."

Sheriff Stilinski put his fork down. "I'm not taking your money."

"But-,"

"No. We're not discussing it. I'm not letting you pay rent. That's it." Stiles' dad said firmly. "You save it up for- school, or something."

Carrie opened her mouth to say something, probably to argue her point even though Stiles knew his father well enough to know it was a moot point, but someone knocked on the door, interrupting her.

"That's probably the Lahey boy. He's been here every night to see if you were out of the hospital yet." Sheriff Stilinski told Stiles. "I didn't know you were friends."

Stiles met Carrie's eyes and she looked down. They both knew that Isaac wasn't here to check up on him. He could have went to the hospital and, in fact, he had, twice. "It just sort of happened." Stiles said lamely. "I'll get it."

He pushed away from the table, leaving Carrie and alone with his dad. Who ever it was continued to knock insistently on the door. It was probably Scott. Whenever he didn't answer right away Scott just pounded on the door, or walked in on his own.

When he pulled open the door it wasn't Scott, though. It was a tall man who rivalled Derek in the muscles department, but he was a lot older, maybe his early forties, with short sandy blonde hair.

"Can I help you?" Stiles asked, confused.

"My name is John Conner. I'm here for my daughter, Carrie." The man said, looking past him into the house. Stiles just stood there, staring at him, mouth agape.


	23. Meeting

The man stared back at Stiles, waiting for a response. Stiles wasn't sure what to say. He knew he should probably go get Carrie and his dad, but for some reason he couldn't move. At least, not until his phone rang in his pocket.

"Can you give me a minute?" He asked, shutting the door without waiting for an answer. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and the screen flashed Derek's name. "I'm going to have to call you back." He said as soon as he picked it up.

"Not now, Stiles. There are other werewolves in town. Boyd and Erica-,"

"Trust me, I already know." He said, looking through the peak hole of the door. The man who claimed to be Carrie's dad stood out there, eyebrows drawn together in annoyance. He looked like her, Stiles had to admit. The eyes were the same, but the mouth was different, and so was the nose.

"How do you know that?" Derek hissed and Stiles could just picture him on the other end of the phone, eyes flashing dangerously red.

Stiles winced as he spoke the next words, also able to picture his reaction to them, and it wasn't a good picture. "Because there's one outside my door?"

"Who's at the door?" Stiles dad asked, emerging from the dinning room.

_Great, just great. I really need this right now_, Stiles thought. He ran a hand over his face. "It's for Carrie." He said quietly, both to Derek and his dad.

There was a low growl coming from the phone as Carrie followed his dad into the living room, a frown on her face as she took in Stiles' expression.

"Who is it?" His dad repeated, walking past his son to the door. Stiles wanted to tell him not to open it, but he knew that if he said that his dad would just ignore him anyways.

The man, Carrie's _dad_, was still out there, waiting politely on the doorstep, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. When the door open he turned, a pleasant smile on his face.

"You must be the sheriff." He said, extending his hand. "I'm John Conner."

His dad took John's hand but didn't return the smile. "What can I do for you?" He asked, giving the man a wary look.

"I'm here for Carrie." He said simply, just as he had to Stiles.

Carrie's eyes widened and she gave Stiles a questioning look. He opened his mouth but didn't say anything. What could he say? Hey, Carrie, I think that might actually be your dad out there, who is also a werewolf, but you don't know that because you don't know anything because we didn't tell you anything because we are so, so stupid.

"I'm her father." John added, as if that helped. Really, judging from the suddenly shocked expression on everyone, except Stiles', faces, it wasn't helpful at all.

"I'm gonna call you back." Stiles said quickly into the phone. He shut it before Derek could reply. He'd be angry about that, but there were more pressing issues.

"Can I come in?" John asked when no one answered him.

"We were just having dinner and my son just got home from the hospital. How about we leave this until tomorrow at the station?" His dad asked, giving John a scrutinizing look.

Over his dad's shoulder he could see John open his mouth, as if to argue, and then shut it and nod once before walking away.

"Lasagne's going to get cold." His dad said in a calm tone, shutting the door.

They sat down at the table again and this time everyone was silent. Only his dad bothered with eating, both he and Carrie sat there, looking at the table.

"Do you think he was telling the truth?" Carrie asked finally, looking up. "About being… you know, my… father?" She said the word slowly, as if it was a foreign word.

His dad put down his fork. "Maybe." He admitted. "We can't know for sure until we run his name in the records. There isn't a father's name listen on yours, which is why we didn't contact him after… everything."

Carrie nodded. "And what if I don't want to talk to him?"

"Then you don't have to. Legally he doesn't have any say, if that's what you chose." His dad explained.

Stiles couldn't help but think that maybe they _should_ talk to him. Not as Carrie's father, but as someone who has to know something about werewolves. He was born into a family of ones, according to Deaton. Maybe he could help with The Carrie Dilemma.

What still confused Stiles, though, was that she hadn't shown any other signs of turning. There was no built up anger or random mood swings, like there had been with Scott. She hadn't been acting any different, except maybe a bit quieter, but Carrie had never been the chatterbox type even in the beginning.

It could have something to do with her bloodline, he mused. Maybe that's why the werewolf gene was manifesting differently in her. He just didn't _know_. They were in the dark about so much. Maybe this John guy could help.

* * *

"So we're meeting with this other werewolf pack at a _McDonalds_?" Stiles asked, eyes wide enough that it was honestly a surprise they didn't pop out of their sockets. "Isn't there, like, some sort of werewolf meet up place or something? I mean, Mc_Donalds_?"

Derek sighed heavily. "It's public, it's open, and no one will question why there's so many of us." Derek explained, though he didn't exactly look happy.

Stiles felt the same way. He was waiting for his father and Carrie to get done their meeting with this guy so he could badger them both about what happened. He had wanted to go, and was actually pretty annoyed that his father prohibited it.

"So who's all coming with us?" Stiles asked, jumping up on the train car.

Derek looked up at him from where he was working on something that had to do with a wrench and a bunch of scrap metal. "You're not coming."

Stiles' mouth flopped open. "Like hell I'm not!"

"You're _not_," Derek said firmly. "If something happens I can't spend half my focus trying to protect you. You're not coming. That's final."

Stiles huffed out an annoyed breath. "Do you not remember that day in my room when I told you I was sick of you guys pushing me around and telling me I can't do things? Yeah, well, I'm still sick of it, but I'm also done listening. If you don't want me there you're going to have to tie me to this train car because if you don't, I'm coming."

Derek didn't even look up. "That can be arranged."

Stiles stood up and balled his keys in his hands. "No way. You need me. I'm an asset, Derek, and I can _help_."

"You could get _killed_," Derek snapped, eyes flashing. "We have no idea what we're walking into here. The fact that they're trespassing on our territory is already enough to start a fight, now with your friend Carrie in the mix-,"

"So let me _help_." Stiles urged.

"No." Derek had that look on his face that said his mind was completely made up. "You stay at home until I call you."

Stiles snorted and turned his back on Derek. "Whatever."

* * *

Stiles parked down the street from the fast food restaurant and sat in his jeep, grinning. Did Derek actually believe he'd be bossed around that easily? He knew Derek would have to past the road in front of him to get to the restaurant, so he was going to wait until the familiar car passed by and then he'd head in. Derek couldn't exactly throw him out of the place. Well, he could, Stiles mused, but he would really, really regret it.

He was too busy watching the road that he didn't notice anyone walking up behind his car until a hand slapped hard on the window and he jumped, letting out a very manly scream.

"Why would you do that?" Stiles demanded, narrowing his eyes at Carrie.

She laughed. "Sorry, I just- I needed a good laugh."

"What are you doing here?" He asked, looking back down the street so he wouldn't miss if Derek drove by.

Carrie raised an eyebrow and looked down at herself. "Uh, walking to work?"

Stiles tore his eyes away once again to give Carrie a quick once over, and then he paused before laughing. "You've got to be kidding me."

Carrie frowned. "It was the only place that would hire me. I had no previous experience, so…" She blushed when Stiles continued laughing. "It's not-,"

"No, I'm not making fun of you." Stiles wheezed, trying to calm himself. "It's just a really, really small world. Do you want a ride the rest of the way?"

She nodded and walked around to the other side of the car. Now he'd have an excuse to go and Derek couldn't even yell at him… that much.

"So, how did your meeting go?" Stiles asked as he drove.

Carrie bit her lip. "It was confusing. And awkward. I don't-," she sighed. "I don't understand what he wants, to be honest. Or why he waited until now to try and contact me."

"So what are you going to do about him?"

She shrugged. "I'm not sure. Your dad says we can set up meetings, in public places, for me to get to know him, if I'd like. I still haven't decided."

Stiles wondered if he should warn her that the man in question, her father (still weird to think about that) was actually having a meeting at her work soon with Derek and the rest of the pack, and the rest of _his_ pack, which she _still_ didn't know about. Crap.

Stiles parked the car at the far end of the lot and Carrie didn't comment on it, just raised her eyebrows as she hopped out of the car, Stiles following behind her.

"I'll see you after." Carrie told him as they walked in, going in separate directions.

Stiles walked up to the counter, ordered himself a cheap meal and then sat down at one the booths that allowed him to watch both doors. After about ten minutes he spotted Carrie, who was being shown around by a guy probably their age who he vaguely recognized from school.

"I told you not to come."

Stiles whirled, hand clutching at his throat. "What does everyone have to sneak up on me?" He squeaked.

Derek just stared him down until he started to feel guilty. He hated that feeling. He shouldn't feel guilty at all. He was part of the pack, by extension. They couldn't just chose to include him when they wanted and then tell him to get lost when it was convenient.

"Where's everyone else?" Stiles asked, looking around.

"They're coming." Derek admitted, sliding into the booth seat in front of Stiles. "You're not going to leave if I tell you to, are you?"

"No." Stiles said defiantly, his chin jutting out. "I'm eating, and I'm staying."

"Told you he'd come anyways." Erica commented as she slid in beside Derek. She reached over and stole a fry from Stiles plate. "He _should _be here."

Stiles grinned until Derek's angry gaze made him falter. "So when's the other pack coming?"

Derek looked around. "They should be here and minute now."

Stiles nodded. "You know Carrie's here, right? And she still doesn't know anything."

"I know. I can smell her, faintly." He crinkled his nose. "You really shouldn't eat that." He commented, looking down at Stiles' plate with disgust.

Stiles picked up his burger and took an unnecessarily large bite and Derek just rolled his eyes.

Isaac and Boyd joined them soon after, both of them carrying trays of food. "You want anything?" Isaac asked Derek, gesturing at the extra meal he bought.

"Not when it smells like that." Derek huffed.

They ate in silence for a few minutes while a bunch of questions flooded his mind, like how many other werewolves there were, exactly, and why Scott hadn't been invited. He kept them to himself, though, mostly because Derek still looked pretty upset that he was there.

When Derek's whole body tensed and Erica's nails extended to claws as she clutched her drink tightly in her hand, Stiles looked around.

There were four of them. He recognized the man from last night, John- Carrie's father- but the rest of them were strangers. There was one girl who had long, straight black hair that rivalled Erica's in length and, he couldn't help but notice, was totally hot. In a scary, I-could-rip-your-throat-out kind of way which, come to think of it, was apparently his type.

Derek cut his eyes to Erica and she jumped out of the booth quickly, Derek following her movements.

John walked straight up to Derek and then they both just stood there, inches apart, staring into each others eyes.

"Hell-ooo," the girl cooed, pushing between them. "John, don't be rude. Please, introduce everyone." She ordered, her eyes not leaving Derek, though they didn't exactly stay on his face. Stiles bristled, watching her eyes run up and down him from head to toe. "I'm Morgan." She said, extending her hand. "And I know exactly who you are."

The second Derek took it Stiles felt something inside him snap angrily, and he wanted to stand up and push her away from Derek. The only thing that stopped him, too, was the fact that he was boxed in by Isaac, who had put a restraining grip on his wrist, as if he could sense Stiles' thoughts.

"I think we have matters to discuss privately." John said stiffly, jerking his head at a table far from where the pack was sitting. Not that it would do much to help, werewolf hearing and all. "You three wait here. Don't do anything you'll regret." He added to Morgan in particular.

"Aren't you all just adorable?" Morgan commented, grabbing the small table near their booth and dragging it so the their table was now extended enough to fit their pack.

The wolves bristled and he could almost see Erica's insult forming on her lips before Boyd gave her a silencing look and she held it back. They weren't much younger then the other wolves, but John's pack was all obviously adults.

"Winston, Mitch, sit, mingle. It's not often we get to socialize with other packs." Morgan explained. "Packs are so… territorial."

One of the guys, Mitch or Winston, he wasn't sure, sat down on Morgan's left while the other sat down across from her. Stiles ignored them, trying to figure out what Derek and John were saying. He was probably the only one not privy to the words they exchanged and that annoyed him.

"What's going on?" Stiles hissed in Isaac's ear.

Isaac's eyes were on the table, his head tilted in the direction of Derek as if he couldn't care about what was going on around him. Unlike the rest of them he didn't even pretend to not be eavesdropping.

"They're discussing… boundaries." Isaac said quietly, frowning. "Their pack wants to stay. Not permanently but for an extended period of time."

"As long as the girl stays, we stay." Mitch or Winston commented, picking up on their conversation. "He won't leave without her."

Isaac's hands balled into fists. "Then I guess you're not leaving."

Suddenly everyone at their table relaxed and then Derek was walking back towards them, indicating that Isaac should move to make room for him and he did, getting out of the booth so Derek could slide in beside Stiles.

The other pack stood as John walked past them, towards the door. Stiles could see Carrie, who had been listening intently to something the guy she was standing beside said, until she spotted him. Her eyes widened a fraction and then she took in Stiles and the rest of their pack, and then John's pack, who had stood and started following him.

"Just so you know," Morgan put in, not hurrying after her alpha the way the others had. "I can break that bond, if you ever want to get out of it." She said to Derek.

Derek gripped Stiles' thigh under the table. "We're pretty happy the way we are, actually." Stiles shot out. He wasn't sure if that was true for both of them, exactly, but everything inside him argued that Morgan was a threat to whatever he and Derek had, and therefore he had to asset himself.

Morgan grinned wickedly. "I don't think your alpha feels the same way." She tossed over her shoulder as she sauntered away.

* * *

**Sorry for the extended break between updates, I was having serious writers block and I just could not write this chapter. But I think I'm over that now, so woo. :) - C**


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